


The Pleasure of Your Company

by rabidchild67



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Clueless boys are clueless, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Time, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Slow Build, Weddings, Woke Up Married Trope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-07
Updated: 2014-10-07
Packaged: 2018-02-20 06:40:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 30,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2418848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rabidchild67/pseuds/rabidchild67
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris and Zach get drunk-married in Vegas during the filming of the third Trek film, then have to live with the consequences when the news hits the tabloids.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Pleasure of Your Company

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: From this prompt on the Pinto Kink Meme: http://pintokinkmeme.livejournal.com/1138.html?thread=332402#t332402

_Furry._

That was the first thought Chris had as he woke. The second one was, _Thirsty._ and the third one was, _Ow, my head._

Then: “What the fuck?” he said, aloud, but it was completely necessary. Because as it turned out, the person he had apparently fallen asleep on top of moaned and shifted, and that’s when Chris realized he was lying on top of a moaning, sleeping _dude_.

Surprised, he pushed himself up, which was ill-advised, as he had been pretty much entirely on top of this person, and was now leaning with most of his weight on the guy’s chest. 

“Ow – the hell?” the guy said and, as Chris scrambled off hurriedly, he realized the voice was Zach’s. That’s when he flailed around like a doofus and fell off the bed.

Chris groaned loudly; his hip and elbow had hit the floor hard and he lay there in momentary agony.

“Chris?” Zach’s face, slack and sleep-creased, appeared over the edge of the bed, looking concerned. “You OK?”

Chris squinted up at Zach – he had slept with his contact lenses in, and they were sticking to his eyes uncomfortably. “No?”

“You’re not sure?”

“My head hurts.”

Zach sat up and perched on the edge of the bed, concern in his dark eyes. “Did you hit your head?” 

“No, my hip. Ow.” He attempted to sit up, but felt a little dizzy and so lay back down on his back on the floor.

“But did you hit your head too?”

“No, I think it’s just a regular hangover. Mom.”

Zach look of relief turned to a scowl. “Shut up.” He disappeared from Chris’s view and the bed shook slightly, leading Chris to think he’d lain back down as well.

“Where are we?” Zach asked.

“Vegas.”

“I know _that_ but _where_? Did you get a hotel?”

Chris searched his memory but it hurt too much to think. “All I remember is Anton’s bachelor party.” They were a month into filming Trek XIII, and Anton was marrying his sweetie in two weeks. They’d all taken the occasion of the Memorial Day weekend to celebrate. A lot, apparently.

“That’s a long slice of time. What’s the last part of it you remember?”

“There was vodka in the champagne room.”

“Seems like a misnomer.”

“Shut up. I remember _you_ getting a lap dance.”

“She’s a sweet kid putting herself through nursing school.” 

“Aren’t they all?”

“Don’t be a dick. Anyway, the way you were staring, I’m surprised you didn’t ask for one yourself.”

Chris wracked his brain – he didn’t recall noticing any girl in particular, just the amused look on Zach’s face as she pressed her boobs against his chest. Somewhere above him, a text message chimed in. “Is that my phone?”

“I think so.”

“Can you hand it to me?” There was the sound of rustling bed sheets and then it landed in the center of his chest with a thud. “Oof!” he said, picked it up, and squinted at the display. 

An unknown local number sent the following text: _Mr. Pine, you left your wallet behind last night. You can come and pick it up at any time – just ask at the main reception desk._

Chris automatically reached for where he usually kept his wallet in his back pocket, and sure enough it was gone. _whose this?_ he typed back.

 _Sorry – I thought you’d figure it out._ came the reply _It’s Reverend James at the Best Li’l Wedding Chapel. I presided over your ceremony last night._

Chris felt his entire head go hot as his vision tunneled. 

_I hope you don’t mind my saying what an honor it was to perform it – we don’t often host celebrities getting married in here,_ Reverend James texted.

“Celebrities?” Chris repeated aloud.

_I mean, there was Britney Spears that one time, but no one knew the guy_

_rally?_ Chris managed to text back. 

_But don’t you worry, Mr. Pine – we’ll keep mum about it. I mean, until the marriage certificate gets filed on Tuesday. Then it’s all a matter of public record, you know?_

No, Chris did not know. He did not know much of anything at the moment. Panicking, he looked down and noticed that, wrapped around the ring finger on his left hand was a short length of wire coated in yellow plastic – the kind that typically bound the bag on a loaf of bread. “Jesus,” he breathed. He frantically searched his memory and came up with… exactly nothing. “Jesus!” he whined a bit louder.

“Something wrong?” Zach asked, his head appearing above Chris again.

“I think I’m gonna puke.”

“Ew. Well, go into the bathroom, will you? I don’t want a repeat performance of that one night in Berlin.”

Chris gave him a dark look. “That was you, and you know it.”

“It’s still gross,” Zach said haughtily. 

Chris ignored him, returning to his text conversation _thanks. i dont suppose you could send me ur address? last night was so crazy_

 _:)_ the good Reverend responded, along with an address Chris did not recall ever having been to. He stood up, closing his eyes against the dizziness that assailed him. “I have to go,” he said slowly.

“Go where?”

“An errand.” He moved towards the door and realized something. “Where’s my shoe?” he said, looking down at his bare left foot. “And my shirt?”

“You’re asking me? When you find it, ask it where my pants wound up.”

\----

“Zach, I told you I didn’t need company.”

“And I told _you_ that I have nothing better to do,” Zach said semi-reasonably, taking a measured step forward in the line for taxis. 

As it turned out, they had apparently been occupying a rather large and well-appointed suite at the Bellagio, one Chris might have taken the time to enjoy had he been in a better frame of mind. That would prove impossible under the circumstances however, because on top of trying to deal with the Hangover of the Century, he had also apparently gotten married without remembering it or the person he had pledged his future companionship to.

The last thing he wanted was for Zach to witness this latest bout of Pine idiocy.

At last, they reached the front of the taxi line.

“Where we going?” Zach asked mildly as he settled back against the leather seats of their ride.

Chris ignored him, instead leaning forward into the front seat and extending his phone toward the driver so he could read the address of the wedding chapel. The guy raised an eyebrow and nodded but said nothing more as he started the meter and put the car into drive.

Chris sat back against the stiff leather of the backseat but kept his posture rigid, intently watching their progress out the window as they pulled onto the Strip and into traffic headed South. 

“You look like a fucking tweaker, will you fucking chill already?” Zach observed a minute later, though he was concentrating more on his phone than on Chris.

Chris looked down at the leg he’d been unaware he was shaking and stilled it with a hand on his own knee.

The wedding chapel was the anchor of a dozen or so stores in a strip mall out near the airport. Its neighbors included a Mo’ Tox Botox franchise, a nail salon, a liquor store, a pizzeria, and an LA Weight Loss clinic. The drive took less time than it ought to have, and as the chapel’s large sign came into view, Chris began to sweat. He glanced over at Zach, dreading his reaction to their destination, but as the taxi pulled up in front of the strip mall, Zach remained surprisingly silent. 

Chris paid the driver and exited the cab, walking swiftly across the parking lot towards the Best Li’l Wedding Chapel, vaguely aware of Zach trailing behind. He paused a moment inside the door, waiting for his eyes to adjust from the bright sunshine outside. Zach, nose buried in his iPhone, nearly knocked him over as he entered behind him.

“Dude, what the hell?” Zach asked.

“Sorry,” Chris replied, shuffling towards the reception desk and wishing he had the power to rewind this damn weekend.

“Welcome to the Best Li’l Wedding Chapel! How can I help you?!” the receptionist, whose name tag read, “Andi” asked. Her voice way too chipper for this early on a Saturday; Chris cast his eyes about for a clock – it was 1:15.

“Reverend, uh, James called me – I forgot my, uh, wallet here, uh, last night.” Chris mumbled at her. He glanced over at Zach, who was looking around the place, taking in their surroundings with an unreadable expression on his face.

“Oh, that’s right!” Andi chirped. “You just wait there, Mister Pine, and I’ll bring it right up for you!”

“Aces.”

Chris stood there stiffly, not looking at Zach while the young woman disappeared into the depths of the building. He glanced around the small waiting area where they found themselves, taking in the tasteful and comfortable-looking furniture scattered about and the laminated price list on the counter. There were photos on the walls of dozens of couples on their wedding days, smiling at the camera with varying degrees of happiness. Chris wondered how many of them were drunk and reflected darkly on how interesting it was that a person could never be permitted to get a tattoo whilst obviously intoxicated, but getting married apparently had no such restriction.

“Mr. Pine – hello!” a friendly voice sang out, startling him out of his reverie. 

Chris looked up to see a man who looked no older than him approaching, hand outstretched in greeting. He had a handsome, tanned face with hazel eyes and thinning blond hair, and stood perhaps a head shorter than Chris. Chris didn’t recognize him in the least.

“Reverend James,” Chris greeted, trying not to make it sound like a question, as he shook the proffered hand.

“I must say, we rarely get return customers quite this soon, ha-ha,” James said, eyes twinkling. 

Chris hated that he liked him, and laughed along in spite of himself. “Guess you’ll have to institute a customer loyalty program just for me!”

James’ laugh intensified and he wiped a tear away. “My goodness, you’re such a cut-up. Anyway, I’ve got what you came for right here.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out Chris’s favorite wallet – hand-made the softest leather Chris had ever felt, that Zach had given him for Christmas years before. There wasn’t much in it – he only ever carried one credit card, and whatever cash inside would not have bothered him to lose – but the loss of the wallet itself would have been a great disappointment.

“Thank you, I would have hated to lose it.” Chris shoved it into his back pocket and felt immediately somewhat better. As he moved, he glanced over at Zach out of habit; the other man was watching the exchange from a respectful distance, but his eyes glittered with curiosity. “So tell me, uh,” Chris looked back at the reverend and said in a low voice, “what were you saying before about the marriage certificate?”

“About the filing?” Chris nodded. “Oh, just that we’d take care of that for you once the courthouse opens on Tuesday – it’s part of the service we offer. But I want to assure you that we take the confidentiality of our clients very seriously, and will in no way leak the details of your visit here to anyone.”

“No, I would expect that discretion would be an important thing to you.”

“It is of paramount importance to say the least. We understand the somewhat, shall we say _spontaneous nature_ , of such occasions at times, and appreciate your need to inform your respective families in your own ways. And when the parties in question are both celebrities, well then that discretion becomes even more important.”

 _Both celebrities?_ Chris thought, his mind reeling. But the reverend was still talking and his ears were suddenly filled with the sound of his pounding heart, so he couldn't quite hear him. “What… what was that again?”

“I said that I was happy to have been of service to you and Mr. Quinto on your special day. I must say I have not seen two people who appeared to be so well-suited to each other come through our doors in quite some time.”

“Muh-Mister Quinto?”

“Your new husband of course,” James said with a big smile and a nod he aimed at a clueless Zach.

 _Shit,_ Chris thought. _Shit, shit, SHIT!_

“Hey, look what I found in my pocket,” Zach said, wandering over to join them. He held out his left hand to Chris, who was momentarily distracted by the flash of green plastic. “Isn't this that Green Arrow ring Anton gave you the other day?”

“Lantern, it’s Green Lantern,” Chris corrected reflexively; there’d been talk of trying to reboot the Green Lantern franchise with Chris in the title role and Anton and he were geeking out over the possibilities. Chris was a huge comics fan as a kid, and though it wasn’t one of his favorites, he had read a few Green Lantern books growing up. Chris was pretty sure he’d pass on it, but he had been tickled by Anton’s gift at the beginning of this weekend. “How’d you get it?”

Zach shrugged. “No idea man.” His voice trailed off as he noticed Reverend James beaming happily at him. “Hello…”

“Mr. Pine didn’t have anything else,” Reverend James said.

“What?” Chris was feeling a little too slow on the uptake.

“Last night, at the ceremony. You said you hoped that the Green Lantern ring would suffice for the ceremony, and you presented it to Mr. Quinto on bended knee.”

“I what?”

“He what?”

“You were very concerned with the legality as well, but really, the ring is just a formality. It’s the paperwork and the ceremony that make it all legal.”

“Make what all legal?” Zach asked and Chris didn’t think the shade of grey he’d turned could be any kind of indicator of good health.

“Why, your marriage, of course!” the reverend said with a laugh. 

“Our…our… ” Zach turned wide eyes in Chris’s direction. “Chris?” 

“Mazel tov?” Chris said as Zach hit the floor.

“Buddy?” Chris asked, stepping closer. Zach hadn’t so much fainted as fallen, hard, right on his ass, and it looked like it hurt, though he didn’t seem to have noticed.

“Oh deary me,” Reverend James fretted, “I’ll go get you a glass of water.” He hurried to a back room somewhere.

“Zach?” Chris bent over and pushed on Zach’s shoulder until he got a reaction.

“Marriage? Tell me this is all an elaborate April Fool’s joke, Chris. Tell me.”

“It’s almost June.”

“Shut up. Just shut up!”

“OK.”

Zach was breathing heavily through his mouth. “Tell me this is all a bad dream I will soon wake up from.”

Chris pressed his lips together.

“Chris?”

“You told me to shut up.”

“Here’s your water. You need some help getting up?”

“No, i’ve got it, Reverend James. Look, could you give us a minute?”

James nodded understandingly and retreated to the back office. Chris crouched down and took Zach under the arm to help him to his feet. “Come on, princess, let’s get you over to a fainting couch.”

“Fuck you, this is all your fault, I’m sure of it,” Zach hissed.

Chris let go of him and he fell back to the floor. “How is it my fault?”

Zach looked up at him darkly, the kind of look he’d perfected playing multiple serial murderers. “I don’t know yet. Was this what all that texting was about before? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t know this was what all the texting was about.” 

Zach narrowed his eyes and struggled to push himself to his feet, but those damn skinny jeans he always wore were too tight to give him much range of movement. 

Chris bent over to help him again, this time successfully. “I mean, I didn’t know I’d gotten married to _you._ ” 

Zach gave him another look and Chris dropped his arm. 

“All they said was I left my wallet here when I got married last night, and then I came over here. For all I knew, I married Anton. I have no memory of last night. Like, _at all_. Do you? Because last time I checked, it took two to tango, Zachary.”

The fury on Zach’s face dissipated somewhat, morphing into a kind of fearful resignation as he realized the level of shit they had managed to get themselves into. 

“Your dad is going to kill me,” he said, fingers covering his mouth. Zach was under the mistaken impression that Robert Pine disliked him, a notion Chris had tried and failed to disabuse him of on numerous occasions. 

“My dad?” Chris said. “You need to worry more about your mom. She’s going to string you up.”

Zach’s eyes closed and a look of pure agony flitted across his face; his mother was like an addict when it came to weddings, and the fact she would not be able to plan one for her baby boy was not going to sit well. “I’m just going to tell her it was your idea.”

“My idea?”

“We don’t know either way.”

“So I guess you don’t remember anything either?”

“I would think that would be completely obvious by now, Christopher.” 

They both sighed. Chris felt a light pressure against his chest and looked down to see Zach’s hand there, palm up with something cradled there – the Green Lantern ring. “What, you don’t want it?”

Their eyes met but before either could say anything, Reverend James had reappeared, holding a large envelope for them. 

“I thought I’d give you your paperwork while you were both here. I was going to mail it to the address you gave, but since you’re here…”

“Thanks.” Chris took the envelope and opened up the tiny clasps, pulling out the photocopied version of his – their – marriage application and certificate. He noticed with distaste that he’d dotted the I’s in his name with stars, though Zach’s signature looked as normal as ever, including the smudge in the ink from where his left hand moved over the paper before the ink had dried. And beneath their names…

“Sons o’ bitches,” Chris said and shoved the paperwork at Zach.

“What?”

“Look who acted as witnesses.”

Zach peered at the paper and Chris could see the exact moment he recognized Simon’s and Cho’s signatures.

\----

“Is that Mrs. Quinto, then?” Simon said, answering Chris’s call on the first ring.

“Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you,” Chris replied, rubbing at his forehead. “And also: fuck you.”

When it seemed that laughter was all the response Chris was going to get, he hung up and phoned John instead. 

“Dude, what the fuck time is it?” John said in lieu of a greeting

Chris glanced at his watch. “It’s after 1:00.”

“So earrrrrly….”

Chris looked at his phone to be sure he had called the right person. “Don’t you have kids – shouldn’t you be used to getting up early?”

“My head feels big.”

“Your head is big. I need to talk to you about last night.”

“You should have let me sleeeeeeeeep!” 

“Hardy har-har.”

“Johnny tie-tie.” The line went dead.

“So?” Zach said when Chris dropped the hand that held his cell phone to his side and sighed with exasperation. Zach was nervously gnawing on a thumbnail.

“Our friends are assholes. Drunken assholes.”

“That doesn’t help us out.”

“I didn't think it would help us out.”

“Then why did you call them?”

“So I could yell at them for letting us do something so stupid?”

Zach rolled his eyes and walked away. Chris glanced over towards the desk and the clock above it, wondering what more he could do, when he noticed Reverend James standing there talking quietly with Andi the receptionist. He got an idea.

“Reverend James?” he said, approaching them when it looked like their conversation had concluded. He widened his eyes into his most earnest expression – sometimes being an actor had its advantages.

“Yes, Mr. Pine?” the reverend asked pleasantly.

“You said earlier that you would be filing the marriage certificate and application for us at the courthouse on Tuesday?”

“Oh yes! It’s part of our service.”

“Is it something I could take care of myself?”

“I don’t see why you’d want to…”

“Let’s just say I’m a very hands-on person. I’m not comfortable letting other people handle my really important business, you know what I mean?”

Reverend James nodded solemnly. “I know exactly what you mean, Mr. Pine. If you want something done right, am I right?”

“Exactly.” Chris smiled beatifically.

“I’ll just get you everything you’ll need!”

\----

“Thank you all again, it’s been a great experience,” Chris said for about the 100th time in the last half hour as he took a last few selfies with some of the staff and patrons of the Best Li’l Wedding Chapel. He smiled graciously at them all, waved, then grabbed Zach by his shirt sleeve and pulled him towards the door. “Let’s go,” he said in a low voice, looking back over his shoulder as if he was stealing something.

“What? What’s that other envelope you’ve got there?”

“I’ll tell you when we’re clear of here. You hungry? There’s a pho joint across the road.”

“You’re always hungry. Look, are you going to tell me what you’re up to or not?”

Chris stopped in the middle of the parking lot and held up the envelope he’d just accepted from Reverend James. “This. This is our ticket out of this mess.”

“What is it?” Zach asked suspiciously.

“It’s the original marriage license application we filled out last night, and all the paperwork that makes it all official. I told Reverend James I’d file it all myself.”

“I fail to see how that fixes anything.”

A car pulled up and stopped in front of them, beeping. Chris gave the guy a dirty look and pulled Zach off to the side, behind a parked Hyundai. “Don’t you get it? If we never file it, then there’s no record we got married.”

“But we did.”

“But only you, me, Simon, Cho, and Reverend James know that. If we never file the paperwork, we can just forget all about this whole thing. It’s perfect – what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.”

“I’ve always hated that slogan.”

“Yeah, but for once it applies.”

\----

Two hours, four mai tais (“Come on, Zach, hair of the dog!”), and a pair of steaming bowls of pho later, Chris and Zach made it back to their room at the Bellagio. There was supposed to be a dinner for Anton later that night, but neither of them felt like another night on the town. They were on standby for the next flight back to LA, and all they had to do was pack up the meager belongings they’d brought along and get out of Dodge.

Chris leaned heavily against the door and slid the keycard into the reader.

“Ohmigod, look at that,” Zach said.

Chris looked up at what had caught his attention – mounted on the wall beside their room number was a small brass plaque that read, _Honeymoon Suite._

“Jesus,” Chris said, pushing his way inside. When he looked around he wondered how he had failed to notice the furnishings before. The pillows on the couch were either embroidered with the word _love_ or they were heart-shaped, there was an untouched bottle of champagne in an ice bucket and, when he made his way into the bedroom, he noticed that the bedposts – and _the freaking canopy over it_ – were bedecked with live, climbing roses and red velvet drapes. 

“Oh God, did American Bride throw up in here?” Zach, who had apparently also not noticed this before, snarked as soon as he entered the room behind Chris.

“No, come on, it’s so tasteful and understated,” Chris pointed out.

Zach snorted as he shoved his stuff into the leather backpack he’d brought and headed for the door. “Hurry up – we’ve got half an hour before we have to leave and I want to get at least a couple hands of blackjack in.”

“I’ll be right behind you.”

“And get rid of that thing, would you?” Zach called over his shoulder before he left; he indicated the envelope that held their wedding paperwork; it sat on the bar near the door where Chris had dropped it when they walked in. “Just knowing it exists is giving me a hive.”

“Yep,” Chris said, shoving his moleskine into his own bag and casting his eyes around the bedroom and bathroom to be sure he hadn’t forgotten anything. 

That chore done, he slung the bag over his shoulder and headed out to the living room. Picking up the envelope, he cast about the room, wondering what to do with it, when his eyes rested on the perfect solution. On the far wall sat a gas fireplace – unlit at this time, but there was a switch on the wall that looked promising. Chris turned it on and went to stand in front of it.

“Well, Pine, it’s not the dumbest thing you’ve ever done,” he began, looking down on the envelope he held and then laughing at himself. “No, it pretty much is.” He undid the tiny metal clasps on the manila envelope and slid the documents out.

 _Application for License of Marriage_ it said at the top of the page. The rest of it was a standard form, with boxes to be filled in by the applicants. He noticed from the handwriting that he had been the one to fill most of it out, including Zach’s information, which he knew by heart. As he looked at it, he tried to remember the night before. There were vague impressions of a wild limo ride, of the bright lights inside the wedding chapel, of Reverend James’ smiling face as he read from the script they’d apparently chosen for the occasion. Nowhere in there could he recall why they decided to do it, nor what happened afterwards – and certainly not how he and Zach had wound up half naked in the same bed at the Bellagio when their reservation had been at the Four Seasons. 

At the bottom of the page, he saw his own signature – he’d used his entire name, so it had taken up more than his line, bleeding into the line beside it labeled “Applicant 2,” so that Zach had had to sign his name nearly on top of it. The “Z” in “Zachary” entwined with the letters of “Pine” in a strangely appealing way, with the “E” nestled in the loop at the foot of the “Z.” It was actually kind of artistic-looking, in a weird way. 

Chris glanced up at the flames of the fireplace, then back at the form, then back at the flames, and came to a decision. Sliding the document back into the envelope and shoving them both into the main pocket of his bag, he hit the off switch on the fireplace and headed for the door. 

 

**TWO WEEKS LATER**

Chris walked into his house at 11:15 on a Sunday morning, dropping his backpack and a pile of mail onto the kitchen island and heading straight for the fridge and the fresh-squeezed OJ that lived there. In the last 36 hours, he’d had to fly to New York to do looping for his last film and get back to LA in time to resume filming on Trek on Monday. He was tired, shvitzy, and had the beginnings of a headache he hoped the sugar from the juice would keep at bay. His plan was to head up to bed and sleep through lunch, then maybe get in a jog before heading to his parents’ for the weekly Pine Family Dinner. This week was going to be roasted chicken – his favorite.

As he drank from the container, his attention was caught by the size of the pile of mail he’d brought in. It was an unusually large pile, he realized, though he didn’t notice until now. It wasn’t like he was gone for all that long and, he thought, Christmas was a ways away, so why would he be getting all these catalogs?

Wandering over, he sorted through them. Williams-Sonoma, Crate and Barrel, Restoration Hardware – the usual suspects. But when he saw the one from Tiffany’s featured wedding and engagement rings almost exclusively, something pinged in his mind and he went back through all of the others. All of them advertised not their usual collection of seasonal, highly-priced furnishings and cookware items, but their wedding registries.

“The hell?” Chris said aloud. Then he saw it: the thin, white envelope from the County Registrar, Bureau of Marriage Licenses for Clark County, Nevada, addressed to both him and Zach at this address. A pit opened up at the bottom of his stomach and his vision tunneled as he stared at it, open-mouthed. He fumbled it open and tore the envelope to shreds, but there in his hands he held the official record of the marriage of Christopher Whitelaw Pine and Zachary John Quinto, dated exactly two weeks prior, embossed with the county seal.

“This is not happening,” Chris squeaked, dropping the piece of paper as if it burned him. He leaned over the kitchen island to grab up his backpack, which he’d last used on that fateful weekend of Anton’s bachelor party. Rummaging inside it (and pulling out his Kindle and PC, not to mention the double-sized bottle of Argan beard oil he’d picked up at L’Occitane), he found the manila envelope that he’d received from Reverend James that day squashed at the bottom of the bag. He flattened it out and opened it up hopefully, illogically expecting the application not to be in there. Of course it was; what would it have done, grown feet and mailed itself to the Clark County registrar? 

Chris fumbled in his jeans pocket for his phone and scrolled through his recents until he found the number for The Best L’il Wedding Chapel.

“Best L’il Wedding Chapel in Vegas! How may I –“

“Reverend James please,” Chris interrupted the woman who answered the phone. 

“Who may I say–“

“Mr. Pine.”

“Just–“

“Thank you.”

It took less than a minute for the man to come on the line, but Chris pounced on him as if he’d been kept waiting an hour. “Reverend James,” he said urgently. “Today I got my marriage license in the mail from the Clark County registrar.”

“Congratulations, Mr. Pine!” James said happily. “Though I’m surprised it took this long, normally they send those out within two business days. You know, they’re just not all that efficient since Millie retired!”

“Yeah. Great for Millie. I’m just wondering how I got it at all.”

“Well, I mean, you did get married…”

Chris stayed silent.

“These things happen?”

“I, um, forgot to file the paperwork before I left town.”

“You didn’t file the paperwork? You have to file the paperwork, Mr. Pine.”

“But I didn’t. And I still got the license.”

“Oh, that’s because we file the application for you online after the ceremony,” James chirped, “it’s part of the service!”

“But you said that the _paperwork_ had to be filed.”

“The paperwork means they have your signatures on file. They need it to make it all official.”

Chris closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “But you said –“

“You have to file the paperwork, Mr. Pine.”

Chris could tell he was going nowhere. “I, uh, I’ll get right on it then? Shall I?”

“Terrific!”

“Bye Reverend James.”

“You have a good day now, Mr. Pine!” James said cheerfully and Chris hung up.

“Jesus tap-dancing Christ, Zach is going to kill me!” Chris moaned before sinking down into the closest chair with his head in his hands.

\----

“Christopher! Come in, darling, come in!”

Chris slouched into his parents’ house and tried to let his mom’s usual tight hug and joy at seeing him make him feel better. It did not.

“Oh, it’s is nice to see you – I know you’re so busy with filming and all of that. Your dad’s in the study.”

“HELLO THERE SON!” Robert Pine boomed from his easy chair. He scrambled to his feet and hobbled over on stiff knees, beaming.

“Hey, Dad,” Chris said, a smile beginning to form. 

“You look thirsty. How’s about some Macallan?”

“Twist my arm, Dad,” Chris replied and followed his father over to the bar. Once the burn of the initial drink had warmed his stomach, Chris found himself fretting a little less, and when he had his second in-hand and wandered into the kitchen, he saw that his mom had apparently made a carrot cake for dessert, he nearly forgot all about his problems.

Until Katie arrived.

“Katie! Darling!” Gwynne Pine greeted, wrapping her daughter in a warm embrace. “Is that a new haircut? It’s so different! So _modern_!”

Katie frowned, apparently taking offense at the remark. Chris never got why these kinds of observations by his mother were always automatically insults, but then he never really got calculus either, so there you go. 

“Jeez, Mom, really?” Katie said, rolling her eyes.

“Well, it’s just that I don’t understand these asymmetrical dealies, honey. What happens when it grows out?”

“Yeah, what happens when it _grows out,_ Katie?” Chris asked, unable to resist teasing his big sis.

She gave him a look – and not the one he’d have expected. This look meant something entirely different than, _fuck you very much._ This look had intent behind it. 

“Hey, what’s this I heard on the radio just now about you _getting married,_ Chrissy?”

“Wh-what?!?” Gwynne cried.

“Wh-what?” Chris echoed, feeling very, very light-headed all of a sudden.

\----

“Christopher.”

“Zachary.”

“How was your weekend?”

“Flew to New York? For that looping sesh?”

Zach nodded, once. “Oh, that’s right. Anything else?”

“Had dinner with the parentals last night – roast chicken, my favorite. Yum.”

“Uh-huh. Sure. Sure.” 

“Oh yeah, I got this thing in the mail.”

“Yes?” 

“It, uh, ha-ha, you’ll think this is funny, um,” Chris swallowed with some difficulty. “It, uh, it turns out that we are actually officially, uh, married. Now.”

“OF COURSE IT DOES, CHRIS! 70 PAPARAZZI OUTSIDE MY HOUSE CAN’T BE WRONG!”

Chris flinched. So did every single person within a 20-yard radius of the makeup trailer.

“I thought you took care of it – I thought if we didn’t file those papers it’d all go away? That’s what you said!”

“Turns out I was wrong. The application was done online already – the paperwork was a formality.”

“A formality. Jesus!” Zach ran a hand over his face until his makeup artist Jenny poked him in the shoulder with her makeup brush – he was in danger of dislodging half the fake Vulcan eyebrow hairs she had been painstakingly gluing to his face before Chris entered. “What are we going to do?”

Chris was luckily spared having to answer by the arrival of Bob Orci’s personal assistant Trevor, who informed them that their director would very much like to speak with them.

“Now?” Chris asked.

“To quote: ‘right the fuck now,’” Trevor replied.

Chris sighed.

“But I’ve only got half an eyebrow on,” Zach pointed out.

“Don’t shoot the messenger,” Trevor said with a shrug. “And by the way, _mazel tov_!”

\----

“Ah crap, what are you doing here?” Chris said when he caught sight of his publicist Marta sitting primly on the couch in Bob’s office.

“Mind your tone with me, Christophuh,” she said in a clipped New Jersey accent that sounded like it came straight from Season 2 of The Sopranos. Chris knew for a fact she grew up in Toronto.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And you,” Marta said, giving Zach the hairy eyeball.

“What?” Zach asked, already defensive.

“I don’t know yet, but I’m sure this is all your fault.”

Zach’s mouth hung open with shock but no sounds came out.

“Now, now, we’re not here to assign blame, we’re here to solve this,” Zach’s own publicist, Arch, piped in. “It takes two to tango, right?”

“Thank you for the mental image of these two tangoing,” Marta said with a leer.

“Hey!” Chris protested.

“What, it’s hot.”

“Oh my god, please be quiet, everyone,” Bob said, rising from his desk and wading into the chaos. He addressed Chris and Zach. “Have a seat.”

Chris trudged over to the meeting table at the far end of the room feeling like a dog with his tail between his legs and took a seat; Zach chose one beside him. Trevor appeared with coffees for everyone as the others sat down around the table as well. 

“OK then!” Bob said in a loud voice and clapped his hands together; Chris jumped, spilling his latte over his hand and making a yipping sound. “Can someone explain how the hell the two male leads for this studio’s biggest franchise can get married and no one thought to tell the production?” He glared at each of them in turn, the publicists included.

“Don’t look at me,” Marta said. “Hand to God I knew nothin’ about it.”

Arch seemed to be trying to commune with Zach silently, and neither of them was looking at Bob, so naturally, his steely gaze landed on Chris.

“Who me?” Chris squeaked, still mopping up the spilled coffee with a napkin. He sighed. “It happened in Vegas two weeks ago. We were drunk, we did it as a lark, we didn’t think it would amount to anything.”

Zach looked at him, a bit sharply Chris thought, though that might have been the severe lack of eyebrows and the bowl cut. 

Bob went on, “This isn’t like running out and getting an ill-advised tattoo. Which, I would remind you both, you are also contractually obliged to inform us about should that thought cross through your idiot minds. No, this is a marriage. To each other.”

“Whoops?”

“Whoops?!” Bob nearly shouted, banging both hands on the table. “I didn’t even know you guys were dating, and all you can say to me is _whoops_?!?!”

Zach got to his feet, knocking his chair over, looking as surprised as anyone that he had done it, but he gave Bob a sharp look. “We weren’t dating. And there’s no need to yell at Chris, we’re both responsible here.”

Chris blinked at Zach, surprised to see him defending him.

“If you were responsible, we wouldn’t be having this conversation, Zachary.”

Zach narrowed his eyes.

“You know, the buzz on this thing is largely positive,” Arch pointed out, trying to defuse the tension.

“So?” Bob asked, looking positively hostile.

“So, I mean, why not use it to our advantage? On-set romances can do wondrous things for a film’s gross – look at Brad and Angelina. _Mr. and Mrs. Smith_ wouldn’t have done half as well if those two hadn’t gotten together.”

“Same thing with those kids from the _Twilight_ ,” Marta pointed out.

“What are you saying?” Zach asked, righting his chair and sitting back down.

“I’m saying that we use it – play up the relationship for all the press, the fans. Hell, half of them want Kirk and Spock to bone anyway,” Marta answered.

Chris blanched.

“Oh, don’t look so scandalized, Chrissy, I’m only trying to make lemonade with this shit-ton of lemons you’ve dumped on us.”

“You think it’ll work?” Bob asked, rubbing his chin skeptically. 

Arch eyed Chris and Zach. “I dunno – depends on how well these two can sell it,” he said, hooking a thumb at them.

Suddenly, three sets of eyes were on Chris and Zach. “Well?” Bob asked. “You think you two can pretend you haven’t just made a mockery of the sacrament of marriage and play nice-nice for the media for the next year? No pressure to answer or anything – it’s not like the fate of a venerated, 50-year old franchise doesn’t rest on your irresponsible shoulders.” 

“Well when you put it that way –“ Chris said.

“Do we have much choice?” Zach asked wearily.

“No!” Bob, Marta, and Arch answered in unison.

“Besides, it’s only temporary. You boys wait until after the premiere, then you quietly get divorced. No harm, no foul,” Marta pointed out. 

“Yeah,” Chris agreed automatically, “we could get divorced.” He couldn’t help but feel like a failure to have said it.

\----

“Hold my hand, Zachary.”

“What? Ew, no, it’s rough and scaly.”

“It is not!”

“Have you _heard_ of moisturizer, Pine? Christ.”

“Come on, Zach, you know we’re supposed to play this shit up for the paps. Bob’ll kill us if we don’t make it on TMZ looking like the happy couple.”

Their shooting schedule that day had been a light one, so they were able to get away from the studio at a reasonable hour. Marta had gotten them a reservation for dinner at _The Ivy_ and Arch leaked their plans to a few hundred of his favorite vultures. It was early, so the light was decent, and they were sitting at one of the outdoor tables for maximum exposure.

“Fine,” Zach said, reaching his hand across the table to take up Chris’s, and looking deeply into his eyes. “Invest in some Aveeno, already,” he said with a sweet and sultry smile on his lips.

“Noted,” Chris said, dropping his other hand on top of Zach’s and rubbing at his knuckles with his thumb. “If only to get you to stop bitching about it.”

“What we do for love,” Zach said wryly, then laughed.

“Yeah.” Chris looked away. “Listen, I’m really sorry to get you stuck in this whole mess. If I’d known about the paperwork thing, we could have had this annulled, and now –“

Zach squeezed his hand and shook it a little, to get his attention. “Hey, there were two of us in that chapel – four if you count John and Simon. And even if we were all drunk and stupid, what you did for me was still really nice.”

Chris smiled, but something about what Zach said didn’t sit right. “What do you mean, what I did for you?”

“You remember – I was all depressed because I’m pushing 40 with no prospects and that’s when you proposed.”

Chris frowned at their joined hands and sat back in his chair, pulling his hands back with him. “What do you mean, that’s when I proposed?”

“You know – you said something like, ‘Aw, Zach, you know I love you, if you hit 40 and you’re still unattached, I’ll marry you.”

“Did I.”

“And I said, ‘What’s stopping us now,’ and you agreed and then we wound up at that chapel. Don’t you remember?”

Chris sat there with his mouth open and his brow furrowed. “You know I don’t remember anything about that night.”

“Really? I thought you were just faking it.”

“No. Why would I –“ He took a breath. “So you’re telling me this was all _your_ idea?”

“Hey, you’re the one who proposed.”

“But it was still your aged self who suggested it.”

“There’s no need to be insulting. You’re not holding my hand.”

Chris cocked his head to the side. “What?”

“Smile and hold my hand or the paps will know something’s up.”

Chris closed his eyes and tried to find his center. When he opened them, he looked into Zach’s eyes and let his own go slightly out of focus (a trick he learned that made him look like he was totally into someone), then licked his lips slowly. “I hope you die in a fire,” he breathed in a sexy voice, letting his lips quirk up at the end of the sentence, and squinting his eyes so that they twinkled. 

Zach threw his head back and laughed, then picked Chris’s hand up and kissed his knuckles. “You’ll get over it. OOO – they have burrata on the menu! Your favorite!”

\----

“Are we out of onions? How are we out of onions?” Zach looked around Chris’s kitchen with consternation. “I bought like a metric ton of onions.”

Chris looked up from giving Skunk the ear job of the small dog’s dreams. “They’re in the fridge.”

“You put them in the fridge? Onions don’t go in the fridge, Christopher.”

“Well excuse me, I thought it’d be OK to keep them out of the way of our latest gnat infestation.”

“The gnats find the tomatoes a lot more appealing.”

“That’s why they’re in the fridge too.”

Zach made a sound like a dying dolphin and went to the fridge to rescue the chilled produce.

“Hey, you two keep the bickering going at this level and people’ll believe you’re really married,” Katie snarked, coming into the kitchen to refill her glass of sangria. 

Chris gave her a look. “We are really married.”

“Yeah, OK. You might want to tell Zach’s clothes that; I noticed they’ve set up shop in the guest bedroom.”

Chris closed his eyes. It had been two weeks since the news broke, and one since Bob had strongly suggested they move in together for appearances. They’d chosen Chris’s because it was larger and had a bigger yard for the dogs, and today was the first official get-together of the newly-joined Pine and Quinto families. Bob’s order that they fake marital bliss had to extend to everyone or the whole scheme would fall apart, so Chris and Zach had been helpless in stopping Zach’s mom from coming for a visit to meet her new son-in-law’s family for the first time.

“We just haven’t integrated our things yet,” Zach told her.

“Uh-huh,” she said, sounding unconvinced as she shoved a guacamole-laden tortilla chip into her mouth. “But if I noticed, you know damn well the moms did, so you’d better work on making that story sound convincing.” She took the dip and the bowl of chips out onto the deck, leaving the door open behind her to allow all the rest of the gnats in the greater Los Angeles area to enter.

“I told her nothing,” Chris said preemptively to Zach, getting up to go slide the door closed.

“Then we need to work on making this look good.” He went back to getting things ready for their dinner, and Chris stood there in the middle of his kitchen and stared dumbly at him.

“How?”

He shrugged and went about arranging all of the veggies he was prepping for the fajitas he was making for dinner. He picked up a knife. “I dunno, PDAs? Pet names? Gazing longingly into each other’s eyes?” His eyes sparkled as he warmed to the topic. “I had these friends who used to walk down the street with their hands in each other’s pockets.”

“Gross.”

“Ha! Well tell me what you used to do in your past relationships.”

“Mostly fuck.”

Zach frowned and picked up a bell pepper. “You’re a hopeless romantic.”

“Notice I’m still alone.”

“Not technically.”

“True.” Chris approached the kitchen island and leaned on it with his forearms. “So pet names… shall I call you sugar-pie schmoopy-face or what?”

“No, you may not.” Zach placed the cut bell peppers he’d just finished onto a sheet pan and picked up a large onion.

“I know, Zach Attack!”

“Ohmigod shut up that’s horrible.”

“Ugh, what’s the point?”

“You’re an actor – it adds nuance. It’s a good way to show you care about the other person, to demonstrate it to others. What’s wrong with honey or sweetheart? Simple. Classic.”

Chris made a face and began to pick through the tortilla chips in a nearby bowl. “Maybe.”

Suddenly, Zach gasped, dropped the chef’s knife he held and pulled his hand back. “Shit! Shit, shit, shit!” 

Alarmed, Chris looked up to see him cradling the hand to his chest… as a steady stream of blood began to trickle down his wrist. “Holy shit!” Chris crossed over to the sink and retrieved a clean kitchen towel, then spun around to return to Zach. 

“Ow-ow-ow-ow-owww,” Zach whined, doing a child-like little dance of agony. 

“Let me see.” Chris took both of Zach’s hands and pulled them down so he could try to see the cut; it appeared to be right in the meat of Zach’s right thumb – not large, but gushing blood alarmingly. Zach resisted him, pulling his hands back to cradle against his chest again – there were already a few dots of blood on his t-shirt.

“Damn onions – I always cut myself. Oh God, it’s bleeding, it’s really… really… bleeding?”

Something in his voice made Chris look at him again – Zach had suddenly gone pale and his eyes didn’t seem… quite right. “Zach, you OK?” 

Zach stumbled forward, and if Chris hadn’t been standing so close, he definitely would have face-planted onto the kitchen tiles. 

“Hey – hey man,” Chris said, his voice gentling. He put his arms around Zach and guided him over to the table. “Here, sit down, OK? You OK?” Chris kneeled down in front of him; Zach looked dazed, his pupils dilated, and he was shaking. “Zach!” Chris shook his arm to get his attention.

“Huh?”

“Can I see?” Chris asked, already easing Zach’s hands away from his body so he could look at the cut. 

Chris marveled that a cut that small could produce that much blood – Zach’s hand looked like something from _American Horror Story_. Chris took the towel and wadded a corner around Zach’s thumb, then squeezed is firmly.

“Ow,” Zach said, his voice sounding steadier.

“Gotta stop the bleeding.”

“Hurts.”

“Yeah well…” Chris said, looking him in the eyes. He seemed to be recovering. “You back with me?” Chris chided gently.

“God, sorry,” Zach rolled his eyes, clearly embarrassed. “I always get lightheaded whenever I see my own blood. Anyone else’s, I can stand a bucketful, but cut myself shaving? Forget it.” He sniffed.

“You want some water?” 

“Nah, it’s OK,” he replied quietly. “I’ll be OK.”

He still seemed really shaky; Chris didn’t know what else to do so he leaned in and laid his free hand on the back of Zach’s neck, easing him forward so his forehead rested on Chris’s shoulder, close to his neck. “Take your time,” he murmured against Zach’s ear and held on until the shaking stopped.

“Well, see? That’s more like it!” Chris and Zach jumped as Katie walked back into the house. “You got any more limes?”

\----

Dinner was served a bit later than expected – thanks to his cut, Zach had to sit perched on a stool and direct Chris through the proceedings – so the sun was low behind the trees by the time they sat down outside to eat. 

A laugh at the far end of the table caught Chris’s attention. Looking over, he saw their mothers sitting down there, grinning and looking at their sons with a kind of predatory glee.

“What do you suppose is going on down there?” Zach remarked, fumbling to pick up his fajita around the almost comically large bandage Chris had insisted on wrapping around it.

“I dunno – but it can’t be good.” Chris didn’t know how he felt about their moms’ obvious affinity for one another. They had hit it off almost immediately, and had been huddled out on the deck chatting and laughing and gossiping all afternoon. The sangria had flowed freely.

“Oh, it’s not good,” Robert Pine said, giving the two young men a sober look that said, _run and save yourselves._ Chris stared.

“Oh come on, don’t be so dramatic,” Gwynne said. “We’re just…” She rolled her hand around on her wrist as she tried to think of a word.

“Making plans,” Margo Quinto supplied.

“That’s it,” Gwynne agreed, pointing at her.

“Hatching schemes,” Margo added, attempting to take a sip from her empty glass of sangria. She settled for picking a slice of blood orange out from amidst the ice cubes.

“For what?” Zach asked, brows lowering suspiciously.

“For your wedding, honey, _for your wedding_!”

Chris and Zach spoke on top of each other. “ _Wedding_?!” “We already had a wedding.” 

Gwynne and Margo looked at each other and shook their heads, as if amused by their sons’ simple mindedness. “You got married, you didn’t have a wedding,” Margo explained slowly.

Chris was still confused, but Zach caught on quickly. “No, no, no. No! We are not doing this, no.”

“Yes,” Margo said patiently.

“Ma, I remember how rabid you got over Joe’s wedding, this will not happen!”

Margo looked at Gwynne and the two beamed at each other. “It’s like they think they have a choice,” Gwynne said, her blue eyes sparkling with mirth. 

“Aren’t they just adorable?” Margo agreed, smiling pleasantly at her apparent new BFF before turning on a dime and regarding her son and his faux husband with a look as hard and shrewd as a horse trader. The transformation made Chris stop breathing for a moment; suddenly the resemblance between mother and son was uncanny. 

“ _Listen_ , you two kept us in the dark about your relationship, about your plans, about everything. I had to find out about my son’s marriage when a reporter from TMZ called my home looking for comment.” 

Chris could feel Zach stiffen beside him. 

Margo narrowed her eyes. “I don’t even know what that is, _Zachary_. I don’t know who they are, yet they called me at my home and they congratulated me on my son’s recent marriage to his co-star, and they asked me if I had a good time in Las Vegas. Now, this is no information any mother wishes to hear, least of all from some two-bit gossip mongers who don’t even publish anything on paper!”

Chris flinched and put his hand on Zach’s knee under the table without even realizing what he was doing.

Margo went on, “But I am a good Christian woman, Zachary, and an even-tempered one at that. So when I was invited to come out here to meet these lovely people,” she beamed at the Pines with real warmth before fixing Zach with another stink eye, “I allowed it all to flow over me like a light breeze, and do you know why?”

“Why?” Zach squeaked.

“Because now I get to plan. Your. Wedding.”

“Yes, ma’am.” 

She smiled beatifically at him. “So, what do we think about a Yule wedding?”

“What a terrific idea!” Gwynne said, clapping her hands with glee.

\----

“You have everything you need?” Chris stood in the doorway of the guest room, watching Margo putter around, unpacking her suitcase. 

“I do, thank you so much, Christopher. I know I’ve said it already, but this is a truly lovely home.”

“Thank you, ma’am. It’s a great place to call home.” He beamed at her – his pride in the house was something he might never get over.

“None of that ‘ma’am’ stuff – you call me Ma or Margo, OK?

Chris felt his cheeks redden. “Yes, ma… argo! Margo.”

She beamed at him. “You’ll both be so happy here – I can just _see_ my Zachary loving a place like this.”

“I, um, I hope he does,” Chris said sincerely and his heart sped up as he said it. _Had he actually meant that?_

A clamoring out in the hall put his mind off of that as Noah and Skunk came bounding up the stairs, their owner not far behind.

“There’re my grandpuppies!” Margo said indulgently and set about rubbing both dogs’ ears and offering them treats that she pulled from – somewhere, Chris missed it. “Did you miss your Grandma? Did you? Did you?” 

Chris grinned watching her, and then jumped as he felt a warm hand on his shoulder. He moved aside so that Zach could enter the room if he wanted, but Zach just stood there, close behind, his face animated as he watched his mother and his dog-children. This close up, the smile that lit up Zach’s face was truly beautiful, and his eyes sparkled with warmth. Chris found himself smiling in response.

“I can tell I’m going to be lonely tonight,” Zach joked, watching Noah and Skunk roll around on their backs on the floor with Margo crouched between them, giving them belly rubs.

“What do you mean – you’ll have that sexy husband to warm your bed,” Margo said with a laugh.

“Ha-ha, of course I know _that_ – you know what I meant, Ma.”

She grinned slyly. “Speaking of, don’t let me keep you boys up – I know what it’s like to be a newlywed.”

“Ma!” Zach said, shocked, his face turning red as he removed his hand from Chris’s shoulder. 

Chris could only smile and laugh nervously.

\----

“Sorry my mom’s staying with us,” Zach said for the ninth time that day. He stood in the doorway to the en suite, where he’d just gone to change into pajama bottoms and a tank top. Chris thought it was adorable for him to be so suddenly modest – they’d seen each other practically naked on more than one occasion.

“Hey, Joe’s on vacation and you’ve sublet your place – where else was she going to go?”

“I know, it’s just that… well, it’s bad enough we have to play house, and now we have to _play house_.”

Chris shook his head and bent over to untie his shoes. “You won’t be the first guy I’ve shared a bed with, I can handle it.”

“What, the standard ‘experimenting in college’?”

“A little more than that,” Chris answered and left it at that. Freshman year at Berkeley, he and the guy in the next dorm room, Brent, had hit it off immediately, and had been inseparable until the end of the year when the guy flunked out. Not only was he sent home to Minneapolis, but he never returned another phone call or email from Chris. Chris was devastated at the break-up, which had been so sudden and so complete it had left him reeling and unable to have a relationship until Junior year, when a sweet girl named Amy had reminded him how much fun dating could be.

Zach cocked his head to the side, clearly intrigued, but he didn’t press. Instead, he nodded and looked thoughtful and serious. 

Needing a change of subject – or at least a distraction from his tragic romantic past – Chris pulled his shirt off, followed quickly by his jeans, and dropped them both in the laundry basket in the corner. Looking over at Zach, he noticed how his husband was averting his eyes and he went over to the dresser to find a pair of sweats. “You know, we should try to find a few drawers in here while your mom’s in town. I don’t mind.” 

“Sure, OK.”

Chris found Zach’s refusal to look at him, even though he was completely clothed now, to be totally charming. Thinking to spare him further embarrassment, he crossed over to the bed, pulled the covers down, and got in. Zach followed suit, sitting up stiffly with his back against the headboard and staring at the wall opposite.

“Boy, I sure am bushed,” Chris said loudly, flopping over onto his side facing away from Zach and shutting the bedside lamp off. He made a show of punching the pillow and getting comfortable. After a few minutes, the other light went off, plunging the room into darkness. Chris could feel Zach settle in on his side of the bed, letting out a long breath that he must have thought was more silent than it was.

It took Chris a long time to fall asleep, long after Zach’s breathing evened out. All he could think about was how the hell they were going to pull off a wedding with both their mothers involved.

\----

Chris snuggled into the warm cocoon that surrounded him with a sigh, wriggling just a little bit to express his absolute comfort and happiness and relaxation in that sweet moment of half-wakefulness that followed a good night’s sleep. He leaned back with a contented sigh, and realized quickly that a.) he was not alone and b.) the person he was with had turned Chris into the little spoon. 

With a shocking rush, he recalled the circumstances he had gone to bed under the night before and froze a little. But Zach’s warm closeness, coupled with the comforting weight of his arm around Chris’s waist were both too good to resist, and he allowed himself to float back into that sweet space between waking and sleeping for a few more minutes.

He wasn’t sure how much later it was when Zach woke, but he knew it as soon as it happened. Zach pulled Chris in against his body, burying his face between Chris’s shoulder blades and making a contented humming noise before (Chris imagined) opening his eyes and realizing exactly where he was and what he was doing. Zach’s entire body stiffened, and he pulled his arm back so fast Chris nearly got a rug burn from arm hair. He rolled over onto his back to find that Zach had managed to scramble out of the bed to stand there looking vaguely upset, with his hands lowered to cover his morning wood.

“Morning,” Chris said, trying to pretend he hadn’t seen it.

“Um, hello.” Zach backed toward the bathroom. “Sleep well?”

“Actually, yes.” Chris stretched extravagantly. “You?”

“Yes. It was very uh, restorative. I’m gonna go brush my teeth.”

“OK,” Chris said, pushing himself to a seated position and watching him go with some amusement. Zach in the morning was an interesting sight, with his hair flopping forward into eyes that were soft and vulnerable in their unguardedness. One side of his face had been creased and reddened by the pillowcase, adding to an overall boyish appearance that Chris would have to be dead to find unappealing. He sat there thinking about what that meant until Zach emerged from the bathroom looking more like himself, with his usual swagger and confidence.

Chris kind of missed the other version.

\----

“CUT!”

Chris froze as Bob called a cut on the scene and muttered, “Fuuuuck,” under his breath. He stayed there like a good boy and waited for his director to come over to address him – he had a metaphorical spanking coming this afternoon, given the way he’d blown take after take.

“Hey, Chris, buddy, you OK today? Where’s your head at? Because it’s certainly not in this scene.”

Chris got up from the Captain’s chair and crossed his arms. “I know. I know, and I’m sorry. I’m just so – I haven’t been sleeping all that well.”

“It happens, right?” Bob said in the manner of people responsible for paying Teamsters overtime in two and a half hours, “You need a minute? To get a Coke or something?”

“Yeah, that’ll be good – the caffeine’ll be good.” Bob called for a ten minute break and Chris marched over to craft services and got a soda and a sugar donut while he was at it, in case it was a blood sugar thing.

“You OK, man?” 

Chris shoved the rest of the donut into his mouth as he looked up at Zach, who had wandered over. They’d already filmed his coverage for the scene, so he wasn’t technically needed any longer, but he’d stuck around just off the set. “Yeah, no, I dunno. Not sleeping.” He swallowed and rubbed his nose vigorously.

“Me neither – weird, huh? Probably the weather.” This summer had been a typically brutal one in LA, but being a native, it hadn’t ever affected him like this before.

“Maybe I just miss Margo’s home cooking,” he added with a smile. Zach’s mom had stayed with them for two weeks before returning to Pittsburgh three days before. She’d not only cooked enough food to feed an army almost every night (a fact for which Karl, Simon, and others in the cast not based in LA were eminently grateful), she and Gwynne had found a wedding venue up in Carmel, a date, and a florist. She’d left them with a to do list a mile long – including the compilation of the guest list – but they were indebted to her for taking the lead on things they were both too clueless and too busy to handle themselves.

“That’s sweet of you to say – I know she can be a pain in the butt.” Zach smiled and reached across Chris to grab a bottle of water off the drinks table. Chris found himself unconsciously leaning toward Zach. As he did, his shoulder bumped into Zach, who reacted and turned immediately, stumbling a bit. 

“Whoa, sorry.” Chris grabbed his arm to steady him, even though it wasn’t necessary. As Zach stepped away, Chris felt unaccountably calm and relaxed.

“I’m good,” Zach said reassuringly. 

Chris smiled. “I’d better get back – don’t want to leave late. We’ve got that appointment tonight.”

Zach sighed. “Yeah, appointment.”

\----

Their appointment was with a jewelry designer at Harry Winston’s to pick out a pair of wedding bands to be made for them in time for the ceremony. Chris had asked Zoë for the recommendation and she’d arranged for the appointment through her assistant. They arrived early and sat in a well-appointed waiting area sipping free champagne as Chris eyed the plate of canapés that had also been left for them.

“I don’t know why we’re doing this,” Zach mumbled.

“We need wedding rings to trade during the service.”

“But why Harry Winston’s? Why do custom designs? It all seems so pointless for us.”

“Come on, Zoë said Hildy was the best and she took good care of her and Marco when they got married. Now drink your champagne and lighten up, this is supposed to be fun.” Chris bounced up and down in his seat. “I’ve never had anyone design jewelry for me before, this is so cool.”

Zach did as bidden and pounded his wine. “Have you given any thought to what kind of ring you want?”

“Platinum, plain, no stones.”

“Well that’s very specific.”

“I’m a specific guy. What about you?”

Zach shrugged. “I never really thought about it. I never really thought I’d ever get married, actually.”

“Really? Not ever?”

“Well, when you grow up knowing that the quote-unquote’ fairy tale’ was never supposed to have two Prince Charmings in it, you become immune to all the hubbub.”

Chris frowned. “That’s too bad.”

“You’re going to tell me you’ve spent time thinking about this?”

“Well, when you grow up with a big sister who planned her wedding from about the age of 10, you pick up an understanding of the nuances.”

Zach smiled, intrigued. “I had no idea, Pine. Now I know who’s going to be doing the heavy lifting from here on.”

“Oh, don’t think you’re getting out of any of it, Quinto – I said I understood the nuances, I didn’t say I lived for them.”

Just then the designer entered the room and all banter ceased in her no-nonsense presence. “Good evening,” she said, pronouncing it eve-e-ning in a light Russian or Polish accent – Chris could never tell the difference, “I’m Hildy Goren. Sorry to keep you waiting.” She held out a hand as the two of them stood, and they both shook it. To say she was elfin was to undersell it, the woman was positively tiny, with a halo of dyed red frizz surrounding her head and a pinched look about her eyes that Chris surmised came from squinting down a jeweler’s loupe her whole life. She might have been 50 or 80, he couldn't really tell, but her hazel eyes shone with a kind of shrewd amusement that made him simultaneously want to make her like him as well as cover his junk. “What can I do for you beautiful young men?”

“We’re uh, here to get wedding bands,” Chris answered.

“Yes? When is the wedding?”

“December.”

“That’s not a long time to plan.”

“We’re already married,” Chris explained. “This is for the wedding.”

Hildy nodded understandingly and questioned them about materials, widths, finishes, and more. As she did she pulled out sketches of bands and made suggestions. Chris responded to all her questions enthusiastically and in the end they settled on a pair of rustic, hand-hammered rings in platinum. 

“Do you want anything engraved? The date you got married perhaps?”

Chris glanced at Zach nervously and licked his lips. “I always kind of, well…” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper he handed to her. She accepted it without comment and looked at it. Chris recited it from memory:

“No speed of wind or water rushing by  
But you have speed far greater. You can climb  
Back up a stream of radiance to the sky,  
And back through history up the stream of time.”

“Robert Frost,” Hildy said. “The Master Speed.”

Chris went on,

“And you were given this swiftness, not for haste,  
Nor chiefly that you may go where you will,  
But in the rush of everything to waste,  
That you may have the power of standing still —  
Off any still or moving thing you say.  
Two such as you with master speed  
Cannot be parted nor be swept away  
From one another once you are agreed  
That life is only life forevermore  
Together wing to wing and oar to oar.”

Chris felt his face coloring and looked down, picking at his cuticles. “My parents have the last line of it engraved on the inside of their rings – I always kind of liked it.”

Hildy smiled. “It is a beautiful sentiment. What do you think, Zachary?”

Zach, who had been completely silent through the entire exchange, stood up, clearly agitated. “I dunno, if you want it, that’s cool. I don’t really have a strong feeling.” He turned and walked from the room, leaving Chris and Hildy staring at each other.

“Will you excuse me?” Chris said and went after him.

“Zach – hey, man, wait up,” he called, finally catching up with Zach when he’d practically left the building. When Zach stopped, he turned around with his arms crossed in front of him. “What was that all about?”

“Nothing.”

“I know you well enough to know it’s not nothing. Talk to me.”

Zach blew out a held breath and when he spoke, he stared at a point somewhere over Chris’s shoulder. “I’m not comfortable with this – the rings, it’s just too much.”

“You know we have exactly no choice here, right?”

“I know, but do we really have to go so over the top with everything? I mean, wedding rings are supposed to be a symbol of something, aren’t they? Of a couple’s love and faith? What we’re doing does not symbolize that commitment, Chris, it symbolizes our inability to handle our tequila. All this romantic bullshit with Frost poems and custom designs – it makes me feel like a liar, like this pantomime we’ve got going is… is just a great big joke, and it’s not funny. It’s not funny at all, because the joke is on us!”

His face was red and he was clearly upset, a fact that distressed Chris greatly. He put his hand on Zach’s bicep and squeezed, trying to calm him. “Hey man, if you don’t want these rings we don’t have to get them. Look, we can just… we can get them at Sam’s Club or whatever, OK?”

Zach snorted and tried to turn away. 

Chris pivoted around so he couldn’t look away, and continued, “Look man, I’m sorry this is bumming you out, and I’m sorry if I got a little too into it – honestly, I don’t know what that’s about. But we really don’t have much choice here, you know? I just wanted them to be nice.”

Zach looked at Chris, then away again. He seemed calmer, but his voice still shook with emotion. “OK. Fine, we can get the custom rings. But like, no engraving, all right? It’s too real or something.”

“No problem.”

Zach sniffed. “Thanks.”

“Wow, that got real, huh?” Chris said as they turned and made their way back to where they’d left Hildy.

“Sorry, I guess I really have given this some thought,” Zach said, going up the stairs ahead of Chris.

“Really?”

“Yeah, and when I pictured myself doing this, it was with someone I was in love with, you know?”

“Yeah. Sure.” Chris said, pausing for a moment, suddenly breathless, which he told himself was because of the heat and the champagne.

 

**THREE WEEKS LATER**

Chris finally made it back to his dressing room after one of the more grueling days of the shoot; it was a big fight sequence with a bunch of Klingons, and they’d been working on it for the last week. According to the shooting schedule, they were due to spend the following week on it as well, and Chris just wasn’t sure he had the stamina in him. But luckily, it was Friday and he’d have the weekend to recuperate and get his mojo back – and maybe get some actual sleep for once.

He peeled off his Kirk costume and laid it over a chair then went into the bathroom to have a quick shower; he hated to leave the makeup on for longer than he had to – his skin was too prone to breakouts and sometimes his pores rebelled if he went too long with it on. He emerged a short time later wearing a white terry robe and was surprised to find Zach waiting for him on the couch.

“Hey,” Zach greeted, not looking up from the book he was reading.

“Hey.” Chris grinned, happy to see him. Zach had filmed a few scenes here at the studio while Chris, Karl, and Simon were off with the second unit on location, so Chris hadn’t actually seen him since the night before at home. “Didn’t think you’d still be here.”

Zach shrugged and adjusted his glasses to hide his denuded eyebrows some more – a nervous habit Chris had always found charming. “Had a meeting for _Before the Door_ , so I thought I’d stick around.” He sat up and put the book down, suddenly animated. “And you’ll never guess who I ran into.”

Chris scrubbed at his wet hair with the towel that hung around his neck and took a seat in the big easy chair. “Who?”

“Jon.”

“Cho?”

“No, Groff.”

“Ah. Your, um, your ex-boyfriend.” Chris thought that came out sounding 100% mature and neutral.

“Yeah, and guess what – they asked him if he’d suit up to play a Klingon next week, isn’t that hilarious? Can you picture him sitting still long enough to have latex appliances stuck to his face?” Zach giggled happily.

“I surely cannot.”

“Anyway, it’ll be a blast!. And since he’s in town for the next two weeks, I thought we could hang tonight – do you mind?”

Chris opened his mouth to answer and realized he wasn’t sure if this plan to “hang” included him or not. “Why would I mind?”

“Well, I dunno, because I’m going to be seen out on the town with an ex?”

Ah ha, so Chris was _not_ invited. He made a _pshaw_ sound and waved his hand. “Husband in name only, amiright?” he said with forced jocularity, his voice sounding shrill in his ears.

Zach looked vaguely uncomfortable for a moment before rising and replacing that expression with his usual impassive mask. “Well, all right then, it’s settled. I’ll see you at home later?”

Chris’s smile was as brittle as his mood.

\----

“Chris, do you think I could still borrow that chafing dish, or – Chris?”

“Yeah?”

“Everything OK?”

“Yeah.”

“Really?”

Chris looked down at himself and the demolished wrappers of a half dozen Cadbury Dairy Milk bars strewn around his person. So that’s why he felt ill. He looked up at Zoë and blinked. “Define OK.”

Zoë strode over to the couch and sat down, her knees nearly touching Chris’s where he sat in the easy chair, still in the robe he’d put on following his shower. “I _told_ Zach not to go out with Jon, I knew it was a bad idea. Look at you – you know they’re long over, right? They’re just friends.”

Chris shook himself and looked up into her eyes, large and sympathetic, and tried not to whimper. “What? No, that’s not it.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“OK, maybe it is, a little. But I mean, even if they’re not just friends, who’m I to say anything?”

“Uh… you’re Zach’s husband?”

“See, that’s where you’re wrong. I’m only married to him.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I will not play your stupid word games.”

He shook his head. “I’m sorry; I appear to have had half of this conversation inside my own head.” He scrubbed his face with his hands. “The marriage is a sham – we did it as a drunken joke in Vegas and then the press found out and we’ve been faking it ever since.”

“Shut the front door.”

He spread his hands and gave her a self-pitying look.

“You two idiots are real idiots.”

“Succinctly put.”

“What the hell do you think you’re doing? Marriage is not a punchline, Chris, it’s not a joke.” She was really angry, standing there with her hands on her hips.

“I know – ”

But she was mid-rant and didn’t hear him. “It’s real and you don’t fake it, you don’t half-ass it. It’s supposed to be about making a life with the person who completes you, about making a family and forging a future together. It’s not a cheap publicity stunt!” She looked honestly disgusted.

“I know that. Don’t you think I know that? Now?” He got up and went over to the mini-fridge to get a bottle of water – all that chocolate had made him thirsty. He grabbed two and gave one to Zoë, relieved to have something to do with his hands. “Once the story leaked, I didn’t see a whole lot of options, so I agreed to go along with acting like it was real. At the time, I thought how much harm could it be, and if I’m gonna be stuck having to pretend I’m married, at least I had my best friend along for the ride, right? Bob convinced us to keep it going, at least until after the premiere, for the good of the franchise, and we went along with it.

“But then our parents were so into it, like _into it_ , and everyone was so supportive. And the media even has a name for us – Pinto! Isn't that cool?”

“Sure beats Brangelina.”

“Right? And now I’m planning a freaking wedding and there are rings and vows and appearances to keep up and I’m looking around, and,” his voice wavered, so he took a swig of water. “And Zach is out with his ex, and it’s just me here feeling shitty, and I can’t pretend it’s wacky shenanigans anymore.”

“You’re in love with him.”

“That wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“But are you? Or is it all the drama that’s making you think that?”

“Does it matter? He clearly couldn’t care less.”

She got up and set her water down on the coffee table, then pulled him into her arms. She was wearing flats and he had to practically bend in half to do it, but laying his head on her shoulder made him feel a little better. “It matters,” she murmured. “So figure it out.”

\----

Chris went to bed feeling exhausted and worn down, Zoë’s words weighing heavily on his mind. Could he be in love with Zach? He didn’t think so, not really. Sure, they got along extremely well and he sought out Zach’s company over all others’, but that’s what best friends did, right? And of course he found Zach attractive – who wouldn’t find that combination of dark hair, pale skin, expressive eyes, and searingly insightful wit and intelligence attractive in a friend? 

“Damn it, Zoë,” he hissed. He clearly had it bad.

Chris sighed, rolling over onto his back and staring up at the shadows the light from the clock radio sent across the ceiling. Why couldn't he sleep, what was with him lately? He’d been flubbing his lines and missing his marks for weeks now, and he didn’t think it would be long before Bob threatened sanctions. An exhausted actor is an unprofessional – the words of his first acting coach reverberated in his head, but he couldn’t for the life of him manage to get any decent amount of sleep.

A whine beside him alerted him to the presence of one of his furry stepchildren, the height of the shadow telling him it was Noah. “Hey, buddy, you gotta go?” Chris asked. The dog was getting up there in years and sometimes couldn’t get through an entire night without going outside. An excited yelp was his answer, so he pushed the covers back and got out of bed, all too eager to forget about his lack of success in falling to sleep.

Chris padded barefoot through the house, walking the dog out through the kitchen to the deck and down the stairs to the garden, and waited while Noah sniffed around. After the dog had done his business, they returned to the house, where Noah stood at the base of the staircase waiting for Chris to accompany him back upstairs, but Chris was reluctant to follow. Deeming the entire night’s sleep a complete loss, he headed for the family room instead and switched the TV on. He settled down on the couch to channel surf in the hopes of finding something to make him tired enough to doze off on the couch.

He found a showing of _Reds_ on cable that looked promisingly boring and turned the sound down low. Feeling chilled, he got up to grab the throw blanket that had been one of Zach’s contributions to their newly-combined household. It was chocolate brown, chenille, and had until recently decorated Zach’s bed in the guest room.

Snuggling down, Chris watched blandly as Warren Beatty and Diane Keaton went on and on about things that were clearly important to their characters and that Chris found incredibly uninteresting. Perhaps he was trying too hard, but nothing about this dull movie was inspiring him to fall asleep. He pulled the chenille up to his nose with a frustrated sigh and changed the channel, finding a _Dragnet_ marathon that looked promisingly snore-inducing. Sure enough, his thoughts began to calm and he could feel his eyelids drooping. He lowered his chin, snuggling into the throw to cover the lower half of his face. Suddenly, he realized that it smelled faintly of something very familiar, something soothing, that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. 

On screen, Joe Friday was interrogating some dippy hippie as Chris began to drift off. Before he closed his eyes, he realized with sudden clarity that the familiar scent he couldn't quite identify, the one that calmed him, was Zach. The throw, one Zach usually wrapped around himself when he slept, was completely suffused with that unique combination of hair products, soap, and Zachness that apparently was the only thing that could lull Chris to sleep now, a situation that likely dated from the three weeks they’d had to share a bed while Margo was visiting. 

He decided to process what that meant later; right now he was happy to let the soothing, Zach-scented darkness take him.

\----

Chris was awakened by the application of a cold, wet nose to his eye socket and opened his eyes to find Skunk giving him meaningful looks. He gently disengaged his legs from beneath Harold’s body and, yawning and scratching things, made his way into the kitchen where he let the dogs out into the yard. He then got breakfast ready for the pets and watched them eat it so that the dogs didn’t steal the cat’s food. So it took him about half an hour before he made his way back upstairs, yawning. The realization that he apparently could no longer sleep without Zach in his bed notwithstanding, he felt well-rested for the first time in weeks.

He paused as he passed by Zach’s room – the door was ajar and he could tell by the light streaming through the open blinds that the bed had not been slept in. “Oh,” he said, staring at the scene with an open mouth. He could not name the reason for the disappointment and sadness that suffused him, or to put it more accurately, he did not want to.

He got changed for a run and punished himself with the 8-mile route instead of the 3. By the time he got back, the familiar red Prius was sitting in the driveway. When he came in, he found no sign of Zach or the dogs, though he could hear the distant sound of a shower running up in the guest bath. Carefully blanking his mind, he made a pot of coffee then downed the rest of a carton of orange juice directly from the container while standing over the sink. 

Zach’s arrival was heralded by the click-click-clicking of two sets of dog paws trotting on the hardwoods. Chris steeled himself and continued cutting up the strawberries he’d been working on to keep his hands busy.

“Good morning! You’re making breakfast?” 

Zach looked well-rested and happy, leading Chris to the obvious conclusion that he’d… _slept well,_ goddammit. He refused to think about why.

“Yeah, um, pancakes,” Chris said, waving the knife at the stove where a pan sat warming over low heat.

“What’s the occasion?” Zach asked, popping a strawberry into his mouth and pouring them both a mug of coffee. Chris watched as he stirred two sugars and some half and half into one, then set it down beside Chris before taking up his own cup of black, no sugar. 

“Just having a craving I guess.”

“Hurray for you. And me.” He grabbed another berry. “You’re looking better this morning – you’ve looked so peaky lately.”

“Not really sleeping,” Chris said in a clipped tone.

“Really? Remind me to give you some of my melatonin – it works like a charm.”

“Sure.” The strawberries done, Chris wiped his hands on a towel and turned to the stove, throwing a pat of butter into the pan and watching with some satisfaction as it hissed and sputtered angrily. He began to spoon batter into the pan a short time later, hovering over it so he’d have somewhere to look, poking the edges with the spatula so he’d have something to do with his hands.

“Everything OK?” Zach asked a few minutes later as he took Chris’s coffee mug and refilled it. “You’ve barely said a thing since I came in.”

“Nah, it’s all good,” Chris said as non-committally as possible. “Just… making pancakes.” 

When he was done, he carried the platter of cakes over to the kitchen table (which Zach had thoughtfully laid out with plates, flatware, syrup, the berries, and everything else they’d need) and sat down. The ensuing meal was awkward, with long silences punctuated by Zach making banal observations about the heat or about a particularly tasty berry, just like every other time they’d eaten breakfast together, and Chris wanted to die. But as awful as it was, it was far preferable to him actually _talking_ to Zach, because if he did he knew he’d say something he’d regret. Like accidentally mentioning how desperately in love with Zach he was and how the knowledge Zach had very likely hooked up with Jon last night made him want to punch a hole in every wall. 

When Zach offered to clean up, Chris jumped at the opportunity to hightail it out of there, citing the need to take a shower. He took his time, and by the time he’d finished, Zach had apparently gone out to run some errands – he left a note – and Chris breathed a sigh of relief. Later that night he called Karl up to see if he wanted to get some dinner, so he never knew if Zach met up with Jon again.

\----

Sunday dawned clear and bright – and damn it if Chris hadn’t slept like a baby, wrapped once again in that damn brown chenille throw. Since it was Sunday and he was in town with no other commitments, he was expected to show up for the weekly Pine Family Dinner. Once the initial weirdness of them having to pretend to be married had worn off, Chris and Zach typically had a good time at these things, and even Noah and Skunk had a standing invitation despite Gwynne’s dislike of dogs.

Chris arrived late because he had had to pretend he had something to do so he could avoid Zach all day, and then traffic on the 405 had been a bitch. He walked in to find a few extra people in the mix – Joe Quinto and family as well as his closest cousin Ann-Marie and her husband. Before he had a chance to wonder why, his mother said, “There he is, there’s my birthday boy!”

_Shit._

His birthday was on Wednesday, so naturally they were celebrating. So much for keeping his terrible mood low key.

Chris grinned through hugs and handshakes, turned every which way to receive them until he found himself standing facing Zach, who stood there smiling at him. “Happy birthday, Chris,” he said warmly, going in for a hug. Before Chris knew it Zach’s arms were around him and he was hugging back, his nose mashed up against his husband’s neck, where he couldn't resist the urge to take a huge lungful of Essence of Zach, much to his chagrin. His scent made Chris weak at the knees and he cursed himself inwardly.

“Aw come on, you two are newlyweds, you can do better than that,” Katie said with a smirk.

Everyone in the room laughed, and before Chris could think of anything to say or do, Zach said, “Oh, all right,” good-naturedly and took Chris’s head in his hands. Pulling him in close, Zach pressed his lips against Chris’s forehead and held them there for a beat of four – Chris knew because he counted. He released his grip when Gwynne uttered an admiring, “Awww,” that made Chris’s face go immediately red.

“That’s more like it,” Katie said and turned away to refill her wineglass.

Chris looked up at Zach, but he had already pulled away, to talk to his brother. Chris’s attention was then diverted to his mother, who plucked at his sleeve and drew him aside. “Honey, before we get all busy with celebrating, I wanted to show you something.” She led him to the cluttered little office she had used ever since he was a child and sat down at her desk. As it had been when he was younger, the space was bright and airy, decorated with light woods and fresh flowers. These days it was clearly being used by a retired grandmother rather than a busy career woman, as evidenced by the framed photos of and artworks by Chris’s niece. 

Gwynne oopened up the bottom drawer of her desk and pulled out a large-ish envelope.

“What’s that?” Chris asked.

“The proofs for the invitations. We’ll need to give them back to the printer tomorrow if we’re to get them mailed in time.” Chris resisted the urge to roll his eyes, and the effort was not missed by his mother. “Now, Christopher, there’s no need to be giving me _that_ look – all I need you to do is give it a once over. Margo has already had a look, and so has Zachary.”

Chris wondered when Zach had the chance to look at it, but then remembered that he had been late tonight. He took the invitation from his mom and had a look. It was engraved simply and plainly in dark silver ink on creamy white, cotton fiber stationery.

_Mr. Christopher Whitelaw Pine_  
and  
Mr. Zachary John Quinto  
request the pleasure of your company  
at the celebration of their marriage  
Saturday, December 19, 2015  
at 6:00 in the evening. 

The beauty and simplicity of it stole Chris’s breath. Holding it in his hands made the fact they were doing this more real to him than when he got the marriage license in the mail. He shook his head to try to ground himself – now was not the time to freak out.

He read it backwards and forwards two times each – an old proofreading trick he picked up at Berkeley – then handed it back to his mother. “Looks great. Nice paper stock – is it double-thick?”

She smiled proudly. “Yes, I really want it to make an impact. The postage will be a little higher, but…”

“I’m worth it?” he finished for her.

“No, you can afford it.” She poked him in the chest and smiled up at him with a twinkle in her eyes. “You know Christopher, I’m so happy to see you happy. Have I told you that at all?”

Chris managed a smile and a gruff, “thanks,” around the lump in his throat.

\----

Dinner was roasted chicken and all the trimmings – Chris’s favorite – and during the meal, Gwynne and Robert amused those assembled with the annual retelling of the circumstances of Chris’s birth. Chris could usually handle it with grudging good humor, but this year was particularly hard with Zach in the room.

“Oh, poor Gwynne was so over-pregnant!” Robert said.

“He was two weeks late, this one!” Gwynne said, reaching across the table and squeezing Chris’s wrist affectionately.

“Maybe I wasn’t done cooking,” Chris protested.

Robert went on, “Poor Gwynne was trying everything – all the old wives tales. Spicy food.”

“Warm baths.”

“Deep knee bends – that was a memorable evening.”

Gwynne giggled. “Oh my, I swore like a sailor at him, poor Robert.”

“But nothing was working.”

“And then a girlfriend of mine suggested something, and I thought she was crazy, but at that point I was desperate.”

“Oh God, here it comes,” Chris said, pushing his plate away to hide his head in his arms on the table.

“What?” Zach asked, leaning forward over his plate, his face animated.

“Well, let’s just say that… _supposedly…_ if a woman… experiences the natural outcome of… shall we say…” Robert began. Chris wasn’t sure if he was trying to be delicate due to the non-immediate family presence or he was just trying to prolong the agony for Chris. He suspected the latter.

“… sexual relations?” Gwynne supplied.

“Yes, sexual relations. Well, the story goes that that kind of…”

“Activity?”

“Yes, activity! They say it might serve to induce labor.”

“Oh my God, no!” Zach said excitedly, a hand over his mouth. “You guys had sex while tiny baby Chris was. –“ he stopped talking, at a loss for a way to put it delicately.

“In the on-deck circle,” Chris supplied, his voice muffled.

“A perfect analogy, Christopher,” Gwynne said.

“He _was_ an English major,” Katie said.

“Oh my God, will someone please kill me and put me out of my misery?” Chris begged.

“So did it work – was that Chris’s first glimpse of the outside world?” Zach asked.

“Zachary!” Gwynne scolded, but when Chris peeked up at her, she was grinning.

“Oh, it worked – once we could figure out the logistics,” Robert replied.

“Please do not go on,” Chris moaned.

“Chris, this is important family history – I need to know this,” Zach said, bopping up and down in his seat with excitement. “What happened next?” 

“My water broke, and we had to get to the hospital. The labor was pretty normal – shorter than with Katherine, but that’s usually the case with second babies. He was a big one though – 8 pounds, 13 ounces, and as healthy as a horse.”

“Oh, such angry crying when the nurses poked him and measured him! And then they laid him on Gwynnie’s chest and do you know what happened?”

Chris whimpered and sat up, cheeks burning.

Zach glanced over at him, grinning. “I have no idea.”

“He began to nurse – right then and there. The poor thing was born starving!” Gwynne exclaimed.

Zach – and everyone else at the table except Chris – burst out laughing. “Ohmigod, you poor thing!” Zach said, rubbing Chris’s shoulder with his right hand. “I guess not a lot’s changed, huh?”

“Hardy-har-har,” Chris said with a glare at him.

“Aw come on, it’s adorable,” Zach said, addressing him directly. “I want to know these things – I want to get to know you.”

Chris stared at him, holding his eyes for a moment – there was no reason to believe he was lying. “You do know me.”

“Maybe I want to know more,” he said simply, and squeezed Chris’s shoulder before removing his hand.

“Ooo – tell him how huge Chris’s balls were!” Katie suggested, and Chris threw a roll at her head.

\----

“Time for cake and presents,” Gwynne sang out, carrying a cake on a pedestal in from the kitchen some time later.

Chris sat in his chair at the table as everyone brought him his gifts. Katie got him a gift card from his favorite restaurant, his mom gave him a hand-knit cardigan in a shade of green she said would bring out his eyes, Ann-Marie gave him a box of hand-made chocolates from a Belgian chocolatier, and, as usual, his dad gave him half a dozen Cuban cigars from his private stash – where he got them from all the time, Chris never knew, it was all shrouded in secrecy. Chris was stupidly excited by it all, and found his bad mood from earlier almost forgotten.

He was idly fingering the label on a cigar and watching his mother slice into the chocolate cake she’d made for him when he became aware that someone was standing over him. “Hey,” he said, looking up to find Zach standing there. He held a shopping bag inside of which had been shoved a large, flat object.

“Happy Birthday,” Zach said, holding the bag out.

“What’s this?” Chris asked, hastily accepting it.

“Your birthday present?” 

Chris and Zach were great friends, and if they were on the same coast for either of their birthdays they always made sure to meet up for dinner. But they had never exchanged birthday gifts, so Chris had had no expectation of getting anything. 

“Th-thanks. What is it?” Chris moved his chair back from the table to deal with the thing – it was nearly three feet wide by two feet long, flat, maybe two inches high.

“It’s a CD,” Zach deadpanned. 

“Fuck you,” Chris said without a hint of animus. He grinned up at Zach then removed the package from the bag; it was on the heavy side, wrapped in a tasteful kind of silvery paper with white ribbon made of actual fabric. Chris undid the bow and the paper fell back when the ribbon did – he was surprised to see it had all been held in place by the ribbon, with no tape in evidence. Inside he saw a picture frame, set within a stiff cardboard frame to protect it. 

“Is it a… a photo?” 

“I picked it up from the framer’s yesterday.”

Chris turned it right-side up and looked at its subject; the photograph was black and white, obviously vintage, of a man standing outside with the blurred aspect of a city street in the background. “Is this a portrait of Camus?” he asked, incredulous, recognizing the 20th century philosopher and writer he’d admired since high school.

Zach nodded, chewing on his thumbnail. “It was shot by Henri Cartier-Bresson in 1944. It’s not an original print or anything.” 

Chris gaped at him – a photograph of his childhood idol taken by the man who’d all but invented street photography – he was nearly speechless. He held it inches from his face. “It’s from the negative though?” 

“So the dealer said. He’s some guy in Brentwood – a friend of Jon’s. He hooked me up.” 

“Did he? Did Jon do that?”

“Yeah, that’s why we went out the other night – to close the deal. And then we went to dinner where the margaritas were _way too strong_ , so Jon let me crash on his couch.”

“I guess he’s not gonna be a Klingon then?”

Zach laughed. “He’d be the shortest Klingon!”

Chris laughed too hard, his relief making him giddy. “Wow, you really got me,” he said in a soft voice, returning his eyes to the photograph. “You know, I was in a production of Camus’s _The Just Assassins_ at Berkeley.” 

“I know.” 

Chris looked up, surprised. Zach stood there with his arms wrapped around his torso. “You did?”

“Well, yeah. Plus you like photography, so I figured this was a slam dunk.”

“It sure was.” Chris looked back at the photo and ran his fingertips over the knot of Albert’s tie. “A slam dunk.”

\----

A week later, Chris and Zach sat in the waiting room at Armani in Beverly Hills, waiting for… 

“GIULiana… Giulianaaaah… Giuliana…”

Zach kept saying the name of the woman they were there to meet over and over in rounded tones, varying the emphasis on each syllable as well as his accent. He was beginning to sound like an offensive Italian cliché, and Chris was feeling self-conscious.

“Yes, her name is Giuliana, don’t wear it out,” Chris admonished.

Zach grinned excitedly and hitched his glasses up his nose – the better to hide his plucked eyebrows when Giuliana arrived, Chris was certain. “I just can’t believe we’re here,” he whispered, taking in the richly appointed room, situated over the main boutique, where by-appointment-only clients were ushered in and out through a private entrance.

“You wanted a new suit.”

“I didn’t think we’d get _the full treatment_!”

Chris shrugged like it was no biggie, but Giuliana Piccione was no slouch. “I dunno, my publicist suggested it.”

They were interrupted by Giuliana’s arrival. A petite, olive-complected spitfire in her late 40s, she was stunningly put together as usual, and made a beeline straight for Chris. “Ciao, Christopher, ciao!” she said warmly in heavily accented English, kissing him thrice on the cheeks and then smearing her lipstick off with a thumb.

“Ciao,” Chris said happily. “This is Zach.”

Her dark eyes flashed at Zach. “I know who he is, _tuo marito,_ uh? Come here!”

Zach bent over awkwardly for his turn at being greeted and kissed.

“ _Molto bello. Molto bellissimo_ , such wide shoulders, uh?” she squeezed Zach’s arms and then crossed herself dramatically, “ _Dio mio_!!”

Zach just grinned stupidly and looked from her to Chris.

“Giuliana is Mr. Armani’s personal assistant,” Chris said by way of introduction.

“Really? That sounds like an interesting job.”

“Sometimes, it is like being a mother, other times like a lover.”

“Mostly, she just pushes people around,” Chris said fondly and then hopped out of the way when she tried to punch him in the shoulder. Chris had met her two years before during the preparations for his first Armani Code campaign, and the two of them had immediately hit it off. She was literally Armani’s right hand, one of the most respected people in the company, and Chris was surprised to have learned that she would be the one to meet with them today instead of one of the boutique’s regular staff.

“Sì, especially upstart film actor puppies who don’t know their proper place,” she said fondly and he let her pinch his cheek. She turned to collect the large folio that sat on a nearby desk. “But come, see what Giorgio has made for you, come.” She settled down on one of the couches and unzipped the soft leather pouch, opening it like a book and placing it on the coffee table. Inside were about a dozen sketches of men’s suits and tuxedoes. 

Chris stared at them, incredulous; not only were they original designs, but the ones on top looked exactly like him, complete with blue eyes. “He did these himself?” He glanced over at Zach, whose eyes were boggling.

“Of course. He regrets he could not come here personally, but hopes that you will find something you like, and that you will accept it as his wedding gift.”

Chris was momentarily speechless. “Something I like? I don’t know what to say. Thank him for me, Giuliana, that’s so generous!”

“He likes you,” she said with a shrug. “He thinks you are special.”

“He must _really_ think you’re special!” Zach said with a laugh. 

“Sì, and anyone that Christopher finds special must also be special,” she replied, and pulled the bottom few sketches out. They were clearly meant to be Zach, with dark hair and the suggestion of heavy brows.

Zach looked up at Chris, their eyes locking for a long moment. 

“And you are, you’re _so_ special to me, my darling Zachary,” Chris said in a mock-serious tone, and immediately laughed.

Zach’s face turned red and he straightened in his chair, looking away for a second before addressing Giuliana once more, “I honestly don’t know what to say, I’m so flattered that Mr. Armani even considered me.”

They both settled down as Giuliana presented the sketches to them. “What do you say?” she asked at the end of it. 

“Well, I mean, there are so many things to consider, aren’t there?” Zach began. “Do we go with tuxes? I think we both have a couple that we really like anyway. But on the other hand, it’s a special occasion, and how often do you have one of the top designers in the world –“

Chris halted his verbal diarrhea by resting a hand on his wrist; Zach looked at him questioningly, but Chris was wisely looking at Giuliana. “What does Mr. Armani say?” Chris asked.

Giuliana quirked a perfectly groomed brow and slid two of the sketches for regular suits from the stack. 

Chris smiled. “In those colors?”

She smiled back. “Would you like to see swatches?”

“That won’t be necessary.”

Zach was looking back and forth with what Chris imagined was supposed to be indignation. “Do I at least get to choose my tie?” he snarked.

“You do not,” Giuliana said, turning to him. She stood, followed by Zach and Chris. “It is settled, then. I will send Onofrio in to take your measurements.” She kissed them both on the cheeks and left, leaving them staring at each other.

“I can’t believe you did this,” Zach said, still looking a little gobsmacked.

“I swear I did nothing but set up the appointment – I guess Mr. Armani heard about it somehow? Pretty cool.”

“I’ll say – if nothing good comes from this whole marriage debacle, at least I’ll score a bespoke Armani suit!” Zach said enthusiastically as he moved over to the dressing room to undress so the tailor could take measurements.

“Yeah, ha-ha, yeah,” Chris said, his heart sinking. “Debacle.”

\----

A month after filming on Trek XIII finally wrapped, Zach judged his eyebrows to have grown back in sufficiently to agree to a series of wedding portraits by his brother Joe. 

It was now one month before the wedding and final planning was continuing at a breakneck pace; Margo would arrive the following week to assist Gwynne with all the last minute preparations, but it didn’t mean that Chris and Zach weren’t getting caught up in the whirlwind.

“I still don’t know why we’re doing this,” Chris complained, trying to get the double Windsor knot on his tie right and failing. They’d picked their suits up from Armani the day before and [Chris’s](https://40.media.tumblr.com/176bca7a9a9afb911f2c73759907b069/tumblr_mpiu2fG9As1s5op0xo3_1280.jpg) literally fit him like a glove, the deep blue bringing out the darker highlights in his eyes stunningly. Zach’s, a rich charcoal grey with a double-breasted jacket, made his shoulders seem so broad that he looked like a superhero; the sight of him made Little Chris chub up and take notice, and the glasses – and Clark Kent comparisons – didn’t help matters. 

Many of Zach’s comments to Chris over the last couple of months had made it pretty clear that he was looking forward to their impending divorce. It wasn’t anything he’d said outright, just a general avoiding of the topic, from clamming up during discussions of the wedding all the way to straight up leaving the room whenever any conversation that focused on their future together. Which, with Chris’s mom’s devotion to family and all that went with it, was practically every Sunday family dinner. As a result, Chris had tried hard to quash every romantic and sexual feeling he had toward his husband with varying degrees of success. Today, apparently, was not going to be a successful day.

“Because my brother is a very talented portrait photographer, and because my mother guilted him into it,” Zach answered.

“But we’re having a photog at the wedding.” Chris made a frustrated noise as he failed another attempt on the tie.

Zach came over and batted Chris’s hands away, then proceeded to untie the tie and begin again. “A wedding photographer who’s not as good as Joe, you have to admit,” he said, concentrating on the tie so hard his tongue stuck out. Chris tried not to think about what he wanted to do with and to that tongue, but it did nothing to stop another surge of blood south of his belt. “There, perfect as ever,” Zach said, then looked up into Chris’s eyes with a kind of intensity Chris only ever saw when he was working. Chris stared back at him for a long moment, acutely aware of Zach’s hands resting lightly on his chest.

“You two losers ready in there?” Joe’s voice filtered into the dressing room of his studio. “Jesus, supermodels don’t take as long as you two idiots!”

Zach rolled his eyes and went to check his hair once more before leaving the room to go to his brother. “Ah, shaddap,” he said loudly. “Do I have to remind you how long it took _you_ to get ready for your wedding?”

“Yeah, but this isn’t your wedding yet, d-bag, it’s just pictures. Actors, I swear to God!”

Chris wandered out into the studio where the bickering Quinto brothers stood beside a pair of stools set up in front of a fabric drape, the area already lit. His heart was pounding in his chest and he couldn’t explain why, exactly. It wasn’t like this was his first photo shoot – it wasn’t even his first one together with Zach. 

“All right, here we go,” Joe said, taking one last reading off his light meter and snatching the glasses off of Zach’s face. He took a camera from his assistant and strode over to a spot opposite Chris and Zach, looking at them expectantly.

“What?” Chris asked.

“Rings?”

“Huh?”

“Wedding rings? How am I supposed to take your wedding photos if you’re not wearing any?”

Chris blanched and looked over at Zach, helpless. “Don’t worry, I’ve got ‘em,” he said. “Picked them up last week.” He trotted back to the dressing room and came back a moment later with two boxes in hand; he handed one to Chris, who opened it up and stared at it. 

Chris had had no idea that the rings were even ready – had in fact put them from his mind ever since that day they chose them. The memory of Zach’s upset at the situation was too raw and Chris’s own insistence on the custom design in the face of that wasn’t something he was now proud of. But looking down at the simple band of hammered platinum in its velvet encasement, he felt the reality of all of this in a way he hadn’t quite admitted to himself, and he was suddenly light-headed. He looked up, but Zach wasn’t looking at him. 

Chris snatched the ring out of the box and slid it over the tip of the third finger of his left hand… where it snagged on his second knuckle and wouldn’t budge. 

“Oh no, it doesn’t fit!” he said, his voice too high in his ears. Surely that was bad luck or an omen or something.

“I think that one must be mine,” Zach said, trading with Chris. All the while, the whir and click of the camera behind them clued Chris in that Joe was catching every moment of this exchange on camera. He took the ring from Zach and it slid on with no resistance, the metal warming to his skin where it surrounded Chris’s finger. He looked down on the thing, his heart in his mouth, and then held his hand out toward Zach’s, to view them together.

“Wow, huh?” Chris breathed.

“Too fuckin’ real, man,” Zach said and turned away.

Joe made an annoyed noise and Chris looked over at him. “Hey, you think you guys want to pose, maybe?”

“How?”

“I dunno, like you know or even like each other? Stand closer, asshole.”

Chris inched over toward Zach, who stood there just as woodenly as Chris, trying not to stare at his wedding ring. He could feel Zach’s sleeve brush against his and he couldn’t quell a self-conscious flinch at the closeness. “We’re actors, god damn it, we can do this,” Zach muttered in a low voice that only Chris could hear. Suddenly, he took Chris’s hand loosely in his and held it there, dangling between them.

“That’s marginally better,” Joe said. “I know – why not try smiling.” 

Chris complied as Joe snapped a few more photos. 

“Try looking less like the Crypt Keeper, Pine. There you go.” 

The abuse kept up like this for a while, and Chris wished they’d thought to bring some booze along to loosen things up.

“All right, now turn toward each other, maybe talk about some shit – look natural, like human beings, fer Christ’s sake?” 

“What should we say?” Zach asked, looking just as uncomfortable with this as Chris felt.

“Whisper sweet nothings? How the fuck should I know? I haven’t had to work this fucking hard for a portrait in five years, Zachary, now come on!”

“He always this douchey?” Chris asked, keeping his chin down as he squinted up at Zach through his eyelashes.

“You kidding? This is tame compared to growing up.”

Chris glanced over his shoulder at Joe. “Damn, no wonder you’re so uptight.”

“Oh! Burn!” Zach exclaimed, though he was smiling with all his teeth showing, his eyes dancing. “But seriously, yes. Yes, this is exactly why I am so uptight.”

“You should give your brother a break, Joseph,” Chris called out. 

“You should kiss your husband, Christopher.”

“Meep!”

Joe, the bastard caught both their reactions for posterity: Zach’s startled eyes and Chris’s open mouth and reddening cheeks. They looked at each other and their eyes locked. Chris licked his lips, breathed through his mouth, which had gone suddenly dry. 

“Do it. Just do it,” Zach muttered, and Chris wasn’t sure who he was talking to, so he leaned forward, took Zach’s biceps in his hands for leverage, and kissed him. 

It wasn’t bad. It wasn’t good either; Zach’s lips were warm and mobile, but he responded to Chris hesitantly, reluctantly.

“No, no, no. You look like you’re acting!” Joe exploded. “You’ve been married five months – that is not long enough to be _this_ boring. Kiss like you kiss each other at home!” 

Chris dropped his hands and looked at Zach; he spoke first because there was no way he was going to be the one not to. “Yeah, Zach, kiss me like we kiss at home.” 

Something in Zach’s face changed then – that intense, working-Zach face from before – and with one fluid motion, he stepped into Chris’s personal space, clamped his left hand on the back of Chris’s neck, and pulled him in for a kiss. 

Chris barely suppressed a reflexive, “Hey!” as he gave in to the kiss, letting Zach’s tongue in to plunder his mouth with impunity. The onslaught was so sudden, the intensity of Zach’s actions so surprising, that Chris felt his knees go slightly weak as his hands clutched at Zach’s lapels. He didn't think he sagged, but he must have, because Zach brought his other hand up and caught Chris around his waist, bending forward slightly as he pulled his mouth away, turned his head and went for it again at another angle. Chris may have whimpered.

“That’s it! That is fucking _it_!” Joe exclaimed, shooting frame after frame from all angles. “Whoa, we should get you two a room, eh?” he said when Zach finally let Chris go.

Zach laughed, but when he looked at Chris, he had real regret in his eyes, and Chris had to look away.

\----

The next three weeks simultaneously dragged and flew by; with Margo staying at the house and forcing Zach to share his bed, at least Chris was getting some decent sleep. He took to rising early to keep the morning awkwardness to a minimum, and filled the time making them all elaborate breakfasts. Stress made him hungry, but hungry for specific things, specific _baked_ things. He had just put a pan of sticky buns down for their final rise when he was joined by his mother-in-law.

“Tomorrow’s the big day!” she said as she walked up to hug him. Margo gave the best hugs, hands down; she punctuated each one with a tight squeeze just before disengaging, as if she was trying to press the hug into your bones so they could feel it forever.

“It sure is,” Chris said less than enthusiastically; he had made little effort to hide the fact that many of the little details annoyed him.

She laughed and went over to pour herself a mug of coffee. “It’ll be over soon, Christopher, and you can give up the business of _getting_ married and get on with _being_ married.”

“Yep.”

“I remember my own wedding day like it was yesterday. Oh, I was sick as a dog all week – little did I know it was because I was pregnant with Joseph at the time – I thought it was just nerves.”

Chris’s eyes widened. “You were pregnant on your wedding day?”

“Don’t tell my sons,” she said with a wink and took a sip from her coffee.

“But you still went through with it? Even though you had some doubts?”

“Oh course – I loved him more than anything. I still do.”

“But how did you get through it?”

“It wasn’t easy, let me tell you. I made my sister hide my car keys, and I shook like a leaf all morning. You should have seen some of the photographs they took – I looked like a deer caught in headlights. Kind of like you, the last few days.”

“Uhh…”

She waved a hand, dismissing his trepidation. “You have an advantage I never had – you’re already married. If I’d considered elopement as an option at the time, I’d have saved myself a lot of agita.”

“So what happened? Why didn’t you bolt?”

“Truthfully, it was the first glimpse of my Joe standing at that altar waiting for me that calmed me right down. He looked so proud in that stupid brown tux with the wide lapels, grinning from ear to ear. And when I reached that altar and he took my hand –“ she was holding her hand out in midair, caught up in the memory; Chris held his breath. “I saw the love in his eyes, and I felt it in his touch, and I knew everything would be OK. I just knew.” She blinked, back now in the present, smiling up at Chris with eyes shining with memory and joy, and he couldn’t help himself, he leaned over and gave her a big hug to hide the doubt in his own eyes.

\----

The wedding was going to be in a hotel in Carmel that dated from the turn of the last century; it sat atop a cliff, with majestic views of the Pacific through vast, floor to ceiling picture windows overlooking a wide flagstone terrace. Chris had seen pictures of the place on the website, but they didn’t do it justice.

“What do you think?” Gwynne’s soft voice pulled Chris from his reverie. He’d been watching as a series of clouds scudded in on a strong westerly wind that pushed the sea ahead of it, whitening the tops of already choppy waves.

He turned to face her, fingers worrying his bottom lip against his teeth. “I think you two couldn’t have chosen a more perfect place,” he said truthfully.

Gwynne and Margo smiled proudly and began to pat themselves on the back; Chris had flown up here with them both plus the rest of his immediate family, to get settled in ahead of the celebrations that would be taking place over the course of the weekend. Zach was driving up from LA with Joe, his wife, and the dogs and would arrive in time for the rehearsal later that afternoon. Most of the other guests would arrive throughout the day. 

Chris had agreed to come up earlier to assist with meeting with the wedding planner and hotel staff because Zach had practically ordered him to. “Come on, you’re the only one standing between us and pink tablecloths!” 

It was nowhere near as dire a situation, Chris was relieved to learn, and he reported as much to Zach when he and Joe arrived mere minutes before the rehearsal. “Everything go OK?” Zach asked, a little breathless and keyed up after the long drive. 

“Nothing to worry about, though I lost the battle with your mom over those stupid net bags filled with Jordan almonds.” He laughed – she was quite adamant about it.

Zach laughed too. “They’re a tradition, for good luck.”

“For _fertility_ , Zach.”

“Only one of them. And we don’t have to worry about that now, do we?”

They all met with Audrey, a local Justice of the Peace, moments later; she’d done multiple weddings in this venue, apparently, and like any good director had already prepared notes about staging the ceremony. With a group as top heavy with actors as this one, the proceedings took little time, and before he knew it, Chris was being escorted by his parents up an aisle formed between two groupings of folding chairs. Zach did the same shortly thereafter, escorted by Margo. They were followed by Katie and Joe and their spouses, and they all arranged themselves atop a dais at the front of the room.

“OK, I will say a few words to those assembled,” Audrey told them, taking a pencil out of her iron-grey bun and scratching a few notes on her script. She looked up. “This is where you two hold hands,” she prompted.

Chris looked up at Zach, who looked as startled as Chris felt and they fumbled to join hands. Chris felt self-conscious, like his skin was overly dry or something as his fingers warred with Zach’s, trying to find a comfortable grip.

“Or not?” Audrey joked to general laughter. 

Chris felt his cheeks and ears heat up and relaxed as Zach’s palm slid into place inside his.

“There we go,” Audrey said with a smile. “Where was I? Oh yeah: Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today, yada yada yada. I’m still working on the opening speech, but I promise it’ll be great.”

“Writers,” Zach commented to additional laughter.

“What’s next? Oh yeah – rings and vows. I understand you won’t be preparing your own?”

“Um… yes,” Chris said. In the interest of sparing them the embarrassment of having to say words that one of them would not mean, he had insisted they go with whatever pre-written vows would be the shortest. Gwynne had made the choice, but Chris had not previewed them.

Audrey smiled. “OK then. Do we have the rings?” Joe produced them from somewhere and held them up. “Great, you hang onto those. Here we go:

“The wedding ring is a symbol of unity, a circle unbroken, without beginning or end. And today, Christopher and Zachary give and receive these rings…”

Chris shook his head, suddenly light-headed. There was something about the ceremony– not the words because they weren’t at all familiar – but the ritual and the setup and the way Zach was holding his hand and looking at him that was so evocative…

\----

_”Now is the time for the customary exchange of rings.” Reverend James smiled at them and watched beatifically as Chris and Zach stared back at him cluelessly._

_“Rings,” Zach repeated._

_“Ring-ring!” Chris said drunkenly and giggled._

_“Rings!” Zach said, turning around and gesturing at John and Simon._

_Simon patted himself down. “I’m tapped, mate.”_

_“Mmph-mrmp-mrmmm,” John agreed._

_“What’s that?” Zach asked, pointing at John’s hand._

_“Whu vis?” John asked, hoisting an enormous plastic bag of kettle corn he held; he’d been shoveling it into his mouth for the last ten minutes. “Keddle corn?”_

_“You have the thing? From it?” Zach asked, stepping over to him._

_“What thing?”_

_Zach made vague, twisting gestures with his hands. “You know, the thing, the THING.”_

_“The twisty?” John asked, holding it out._

_Zach smiled happily and embraced John. “You’re the best, man.”_

_“That’s why I’m your Best Man,” John pointed out._

_Meanwhile, Chris, who was swaying on his feet and blinking rapidly to stop himself falling asleep on his feet, realized he needed a ring too and began patting at his own person. “Oh hey, look!” he said proudly, coming up with the plastic Green Lantern ring. Feeling proud of himself, he got down on one knee and held it out to Zach. “Zach, will you accept this ring?”_

_“I suppose it’s better than a Ring Pop,” Zach said and they all dissolved into laughter._

_“That’ll be just fine,” Reverend James said slightly sternly as he beckoned them to come forward. When they’d settled down, he began again, “And now, you will seal your promises to each other with these rings, the symbol of your life together. Christopher, please repeat after me: Zachary, accept this ring as a token and pledge…”_

_Chris stared at him for a moment, mouth hanging open, then looked at Zach and took his hand. With the plastic ring held in his fingertips, he said… nothing, he was giggling too hard. “Zachary… Zacharyyyyy, heh-heh.”_

_“Christopher!” the reverend prompted._

_“Sorry, sorry! Zachary…” He took a deep breath. “Zachary…” He swallowed. “Line?”_

_“Accept this ring as a token and pledge…” Reverend James prompted again._

_“Oh yeah. Zachary, accept this ring as a token and pledge…”_

_“And as a sign of my love and devotion.”_

_“And as a siiii-hiii-hign…”_

_“Of my love.”_

_“Of my luh… of my love.”_

_“And devotion.”_

_“And devotion.” Chris took a deep breath, grateful to have gotten that mouthful out, and realized Zach was staring at their hands, as was everyone else._

_“With this ring, I thee wed,” Reverend James finished._

_Chris pushed the ring over the knuckle of Zach’s third finger. “With this thing I thee wed,” Chris said with great clarity._

_Reverend James frowned at him like a disapproving kindergarten teacher, then looked at Zach. “Now Zachary, please take Christopher’s hand and repeat after me,”_

_Zach took Chris’s hand in his right and covered it lightly with his left. It was warm and dry and comforting, and he recited without prompting, “Christopher, accept this ring as a token and pledge and as a sign of my love and devotion. With this ring, I thee wed.” He then twisted the bit of plastic-coated wire over Chris’s finger._

_“By the power vested in me by the state of Nevada, I now pronounce you married. You may kiss,” Reverend James said happily, making encouraging gestures._

_Chris looked up at Zach, who was already looking into Chris’s face, and their eyes locked. “Oh,” Chris said, licking his lips._

_“Hi,” Zach said, his eyes flicking down to watch Chris’s mouth as he stepped closer._

_Chris couldn’t tell who made the first move, but suddenly they were kissing and it was…_

_“Wow,” Chris breathed when Zach pulled away. His arms were around Chris and he was holding him so carefully, and his eyes… the look in his eyes was just like that look he got when he was focused on his acting, when he really meant something, when…_

_“Oh, I’ve waited so long to do that,” Zach said quietly._

_“Really?”_

_“Years and years.”_

_“Could you do it again?”_

\----

“Chris? Chris, are you with us?” Audrey was saying.

Chris blinked.

“Chris?” Zach said, grasping Chris by the wrist, concern in his eyes. 

Chris stared at him, confused. The flashback had been so vivid it was like it was happening now. He had had brief flashes of recollection from that night over the last few months, but never something this detailed.

“Chris, you look like you’ve seen a ghost or something,” Zach said. “Are you OK?”

“No, actually,” Chris choked out, pulling his hand back and striding back up the aisle. “I need some air,” he remembered to say before leaving the room entirely.

\----

“Chris? You OK? I think you freaked your mom out a little back there.”

Chris had fled to a corner of the terrace outside the ballroom, and was staring out at the Pacific. A brisk wind off the water made him long for the cardigan he’d left inside, but he did feel marginally better – that is, until he was joined by the last person he wanted to see right now. “I’m sorry,” he said to his husband, “just got a little real back there.”

“What did?”

Chris scrubbed a hand over his face. “The rehearsal, the vows – it made me… it made me think about Vegas.” 

Zach’s face changed, became closed off, almost, and Chris couldn’t read him, not like he usually could. His voice seemed cold as he replied, “Probably best not to do that.”

“But, I _remembered_ …”

“Yeah, me too – I remember a lot of things,” Zach snapped. He turned to go, then paused at the door. “Look, the quicker we get back in there, the quicker this will all be over – something we both want, right?”

“No, actually,” Chris said, but Zach had already gone inside, and his voice was swept away on the wind.

\----

Thankfully, the rest of the rehearsal passed without a hitch, then it was time to change for dinner at a local restaurant on the water. Chris spent the entire night circulating among the guests, chatting and trading stories, and getting caught up with some people he had not seen in a long while – years in the case of some of his cousins. Most people tiptoed around the fact he had apparently dropped the bomb about his sexuality along with the news of his surprise marriage. Comments ranged from inquiries about how long he and Zach dated to jokes about not having to worry about unplanned pregnancies. Chris answered with varying degrees of accuracy and/or snarkiness, depending on the person and the tenor of the questions. None of these conversations were as uncomfortable as the ones he was strenuously avoiding: the ones he was sure he’d be forced into if he was cornered by anyone who had witnessed his little meltdown earlier. Better to look like the perfect host and “visit” with everyone, right? So he kept Zach and his parents and sister in sight at all times and planned his route from table to table in a way calculated to avoid them. 

It was getting to be fucking exhausting.

The flashback to what had happened that night in Vegas had done nothing to set his mind at ease. It was clear to him now that Zach had had feelings for him all along – years, apparently, as he’d admitted after their first kiss. But Chris had never known or even noticed, and when Zach had finally admitted it, Chris had promptly forgotten it. He did not like to think what his thoughtlessness had done to Zach; no doubt he had suffered much heartache over the fact Chris apparently felt so little for him that he’d forget about it. It was making Chris’s head hurt, as well as his heart. Because clearly Zach had gotten over it – had gotten over him – and he probably even hated Chris a little now, too, and his manner earlier that afternoon was an indication. 

Not that Chris would blame him, really. This whole mess was Chris’s fault, wasn’t it? Granted, he was drunk at the time, but he’d come up with the idea to get married to begin with. And hadn’t it been Chris’s idea to ignore the consequences in the early days? If he had filed the paperwork, he might have been able to get the ball rolling on an annulment or something. And it killed him to think what Zach was feeling on that day they’d gone to pick out wedding rings. God, the fact Zach could somehow manage to live with him after Chris had trampled all over his feelings that day was enough to make Chris wish the earth could swallow him whole. No wonder Zach was so cold to him today.

So Chris spent the evening with his guests, listening to their platitudes and accepting their well wishes, because it was the polite thing to do and because it meant he didn't have to deal with his own shitty behavior. And he wouldn’t have to talk to his husband, who might take one look at Chris, decide to say fuck it after all, and ask for a divorce before the year was out, Trek franchise be damned.

That was the thing that terrified Chris the most, and so naturally he spent the night avoiding it. Because he was a coward.

\----

Early the next afternoon, Chris returned to his hotel suite, grateful for the cover of hotel maids and their laden-down carts as he fumbled to slide his keycard into the slot. He’d spent the night getting blotto in a quiet corner of the hotel bar, mercifully unnoticed by any of his childhood friends or relations. He wished he had Karl or Simon to talk to, but this close to Christmas, neither of them could make it to California. Zoë was back East enjoying her babies’ first Christmas in the bosom of her own family, and John wasn’t flying up until the next day. Chris didn't think any of his other male friends would really understand enough to help him through his current problems. The one person he really longed to talk to, the person who’d always helped him the most when he had problems like this to sort out, was likely getting in a quick round of meditation before going to bed at a reasonable hour on this, the eve of their mutual wedding. So… yeah, Chris got wildly drunk. 

One good thing about growing up a sensitive kid with a mother with a psychology degree was this: whenever Chris’s moods swung toward the melancholy – which was often when he was teen-aged, spotty, and hormonal – he was allowed the space to process it all on his own. There were no admonishments to “get over himself” or to “man-up.” As long as he didn't act disrespectfully or have a tantrum, he was indulged and left to figure his shit out on his own if he wanted to. So one look at his face when he showed up at her hotel room door at 2:00 am, and Katie pushed her door open wide without a word and went to make up the couch for him to sleep on. 

He’d woken that morning feeling no better – and with a vicious hangover to boot – but his sister let him be, ordered him a greasy breakfast from room service, then left to get a spa treatment while her husband took their kids into town with Robert for the morning. Chris moped around the room for a bit, watched the first half of _Sixteen Candles_ until the wedding scenes started, then decided it was late enough that he could slouch back to his own room undetected. 

Having gone through the weekend’s schedule of events the day before with the hotel staff and their two moms, Chris knew that Zach was now supposed to be off somewhere getting photographed fake-preparing for the wedding. Chris had a window of about an hour during which he could shower and get dressed before his own photos were to be taken. 

He’d just gotten out of the shower and was standing in front of the closet wearing nothing but a towel, unwrapping his suit from the plastic it was still in after being pressed, when he heard the door to the suite click and then open. “Still in here!” he called out, not wanting the maid to find him half naked and get the shock of her life.

“Chris?” Zach called out.

_Shit._

“Hey, man, where’d you go last night? I barely got a chance to see you,” Zach said, suddenly standing in the bedroom doorway. 

“I stayed with Katie – thought we weren't supposed to see each other until the ceremony?”

Zach scrunched his nose up and shook his head. “I’m pretty sure think that only applies to brides in dresses. You OK? You look a little peaky.” Zach didn’t, Zach looked decidedly not peaky, with his suit making his shoulders look as wide as Atlas’s and his carefully groomed hair practically fucking gleamed. Chris nearly whimpered.

“I’m feeling a little peaky,” he allowed, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “I’ll rally.”

“I hope so,” Zach said, moving past him into the room; he paused to grasp Chris’s shoulder companionably. “We’ve got a long day ahead of us.” Zach continued on to the nightstand, where he picked up his cell phone with a look of triumph and faced Chris again. “I ran into Cho, and he said he’s gonna buy us a drink later, though I mean, it’s an open bar so I don’t know what the hell he’s talking about.”

“Guess it’s like, metaphorical buying. Or something,” Chris answered.

Zach smiled. “Yeah. Well, better get back before my mother notices I’m gone – see you before the battle?”

“Mm-hmm,” Chris said, smiling crookedly at Zach as he left the bedroom and walked out the suite’s door. 

Chris stood in front of the closet, reviewing what had just happened. Zach was no longer acting coldly toward him, which had to be a good thing given all they would have to do today. He was acting like he used to, actually, back when they were close friends, well before any of this had happened, turning their lives and their relationship on their collective ears, and it made Chris feel relieved.

For almost an entire minute.

Because then he understood something, something profound: Zach was treating him just like a friend. And nothing else. And if that was true, if Zach had somehow breezed right past resentment or whatever he’d shown Chris yesterday, and gone straight on to friendly indifference, then Chris knew he’d lost any chance he had. And if that was it, if Chris had lost him before he’d ever gotten a chance to have him, before he had a chance to _say something_ , then what was he supposed to do now?

\----

The afternoon simultaneously dragged and flew by, and before he knew it, Chris was lined up with Zach and their families outside the hotel ballroom, waiting for the cue from the wedding planner that would kick things off. 

“Darling,” Gwynne whispered, laying a hand on Chris’s bicep.

“Yeah?”

“You’re shivering.”

“Oh.” Chris hadn’t even noticed; he clenched his jaw to stop his teeth chattering.

Robert chuckled indulgently as the music began inside, a string quartet accompanying a female vocalist singing Peter Gabriel’s version of “The Book of Love” (and when had _that_ decision been made?). 

“You’ll get through it, Chrissy,” Robert said, patting his arm. “We all do.”

Chris tightened his arm where his dad’s hand lay nestled in its crook and sighed. He hoped so.

A sign was given, the doors opened, and the processional began. Chris tried to be present in the moment, tried to appreciate things as they unfolded, notice the flowers or whatever, but his vision was a bit whited-out around the edges in a way that meant he’d forget this immediately (if he made it up the aisle conscious), and he wished he hadn’t skipped lunch. 

Suddenly, he was standing on the dais, Audrey smiling down on them both, and when Chris looked over, at least Zach looked as shit-scared as he thought he himself looked.

“Hey, guys, breathe,” Audrey muttered. “Trust me, you don’t want to pass out in front of your guests.”

Chris took her advice and started a deep breathing exercise he’d learned in one of his first drama classes and began to feel better. And then the ceremony began.

“Dearly beloved,” Audrey began, pausing for effect. “We always begin a wedding that way, don’t we? But Christopher and Zachary have come here to pledge their lives to each other, so who else should they have invited to witness it than their closest and best-loved friends?” Everyone in the room chuckled or said, “Aww,” and then Audrey continued,

“Dearly beloved, we gather here in this place to witness one of life’s great moments: the joining of Christopher to Zachary, Zachary to Christopher, in marriage. For them, out of the routine of ordinary life, the extraordinary has happened. They met each other, fell in love after a long friendship, and are finalizing it with their wedding today. Sure, there was a pit stop in Vegas along the way, but luckily what happened in that venerated city did not _stay_ in that venerated city, and we stand here together to celebrate their love.” She smiled at the room in general, then at Chris and Zach, and then she got on with it.

“Christopher and Zachary, just as two very different threads woven in opposite directions can form a beautiful tapestry, so can your two lives merge together to form a very beautiful marriage. To make your marriage work will take love. Love should be at the core of it, love is the reason you are here.”

Chris stared up at her, his lips parting as he absorbed her words and took them to heart. 

“It will also take trust – to know in your hearts you want the best for each other. And dedication – to stay open to one another; to learn and to grow together even when things get rough. It will take faith, to be willing to go forward to tomorrow, never really knowing what it will bring. Finally, it will take commitment, to hold true to the journey you both now pledge to share together.”

Chris found himself nodding at her and she smiled and addressed the audience.

“Now, Chris and Zach are eager to get things going, I am sure, so we will move on to the vows and the exchange of rings.” Audrey gestured and Joe brought out the rings, handing one to Chris since he’d be reciting his vows first.

The platinum band was surprisingly heavy in Chris’s palm, and he traced his finger around its edge. They had not opted to wear them until now for some reason, and so he hadn’t had a chance to really look at them since Zach picked them up at the jeweler.

“Christopher, repeat after me,” Audrey was saying, but Chris was distracted by something as he looked at the ring closely. 

Audrey went on, feeding Chris his lines: “Zachary, I take you to be my lawfully wedded husband. Before these witnesses I vow to care for you as long as we both shall live.”

Chris peered at the ring, lifting it up close to his face, and that’s when he realized what he was looking at were words, engraved in script on the inside: “Oar to oar – Chris and Zach,” it read. Startled, he looked up at Zach, whose eyes were on him, looking perplexed and stressed out at the same time. They stared at each other for a long moment, and something in Chris’s face must have finally communicated what he’d been feeling and thinking all along. Zach’s face changed, and his eyes became bright, and he looked at Chris in that same intense way as the night of their first wedding. 

“If I look at my ring, will it say –?“

“Wing to wing,” Zach answered.

“The words from the Frost poem. You had them engraved anyway?”

“I thought you’d like it.”

“I love it.”

“Really?”

“I love _you_.”

“What?”

Chris just shook his head – now was a time for actions, not words. He took Zach in his arms and kissed him.

\----

“Uh, guys?” Audrey said after a few seconds. 

Behind them, their guests began to titter and chatter.

“Jesus, he’s really going for it, huh?” Katie murmured to Joe’s wife.

“Guys?”

Chris didn't much care how people reacted, actually; he had his hands in Zach’s hair and Zach’s tongue in his mouth, and all was suddenly right in the world.

 _“GUYS!”_ Audrey practically yelled.

Chris pulled himself off of Zach with an effort and the two of them looked up at her, their arms still around each other. 

“Gwuh?” Zach asked intelligently.

“You’re supposed to save that for _the end_ of the ceremony,” Audrey said with a smile.

“Oh. Yeah.” Zach turned to look at Chris, his eyes the color of melting chocolate, his lips kiss-swollen, and it was all Chris could do not to attack him once more. “I think we need to talk,” Zach said to him.

“Yeah. Yeah, we do.” Chris looked at Audrey. “We need to talk.” Then he turned to the guests behind them. “We need to talk,” he repeated.

“Is that what you’re calling it?” said a voice that just had to be Cho’s.

“Be right back,” Zach said, then grabbed Chris by the wrist and dragged him from the room.

\----

Zach led Chris down the service hallway that ran along one side of the ballroom, out into a deserted foyer, and through the first door they came upon - a deserted bride’s dressing room that for some reason they hadn’t been given access to. As soon as the door closed, Chris grabbed him by the shoulders, pressed him against the wall, and kissed him. It was hard, and it was sloppy, and there was a lot of teeth involved, and when he told the story later he would leave out the part about him whimpering Zach’s name every chance he got.

“Hey,” Zach said, pushing him off a bit. “Hey, we really do need to talk.”

Chris merely stared at his husband’s wet and swollen lower lip and traced a fingertip over it, mesmerized. “Do we?” He looked up into Zach’s eyes, feeling a little giddy and a little drunk, though he hadn’t drunk a drop since last night. Zach looked back at him, his eyes clear and warm, and Chris nodded. “We do.”

“You said you love me. How… I mean, since when?”

“I dunno, I – “ Chris wracked his brain, trying to pinpoint the exact moment it happened, but it had grown so gradually over the last months that he couldn’t, really. “I can’t remember.” Zach frowned, and he went on hurriedly, “But I can remember the moment I finally admitted it to myself. You know that night you went out with Jon Groff and then you didn’t come home?”

“No. Oh, no. You know we didn’t do anything?”

“I know, but I didn’t at the time and I was afraid I’d missed my chance.”

“I would never… Chris, I could never cheat. Sham marriage or no, I just couldn’t.”

“Good Catholic boy, huh?”

“Not exactly.”

“You were in love with me, too,” Chris guessed.

Zach pulled away and massaged the back of his neck with his right hand, a nervous tell Chris knew well. He walked across the room, gathering his thoughts. “That’s a bit more complicated.”

“Why?”

He turned to face Chris. “Because no one was supposed to know and this wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“But… why?”

“Because falling for your straight best friend is probably the biggest cliché ever?”

“I’m not straight.”

“I had no way of knowing that, you’ve dated women since the day we met, so why would I even ask?”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize – it’s just… you flew under the gaydar.”

“Well, I’m a terrific actor, didn’t you know?” When Zach’s only response was a raised eyebrow, he went on, staring at his hands as he clenched and unclenched them. “The first person I fell in love with was a guy, freshman year in college. It ended badly, and I got my heart broken, and well… with women it was just easier, I guess.” He sat down on a nearby couch, elbows resting on his knees. “I’m sorry I never told you, because if nothing else, you were a good enough friend to have shared that information with. But he was just… I was young and I believed in true love, and he… dumped me. ” Chris ran out of words then, and shook his head.

“You never get over your first broken heart,” Zach said quietly.

Chris looked up at him and let out a breath. 

“Mine was a student teacher in high school,” Zach supplied, taking a seat on the opposite end of the couch. “He was 20, I was 17. It burned hot for a semester and then he… went back to his boyfriend back home. The one he never told me about.”

“Aw, man.”

“Needless to say, I took it badly – started wearing black clothes and quoting Kierkegaard. It’s when I got the eyebrow piercing.” Chris flinched, but Zach was laughing. “Seems so stupid to me now.” He looked at Chris then, his eyes brimming with emotion. “Because now I think – I hope – that I’ve found who I’m supposed to be with, and it pretty much erases all of that. It’s amazing and I’ve never felt this, not from anyone, and I _desperately_ need to know this is real to you.”

“Zach –“

“Tell me you meant what you said before, Chris, tell me you meant it or I swear to God I don’t know what I’m gonna do.” 

He was visibly shaking, his face heartbreakingly vulnerable, and Chris couldn’t see him that way for one second longer. He launched himself across the sofa and threw his arms around Zach, who fell back against the arm of the couch with a light “Oof.”

“I love you,” Chris said urgently, and then kissed him. “I love you more than anyone I’ve ever known.” He kissed him again. “More than I thought was possible.” He pulled back and pushed a lock of Zach’s hair away from his forehead, staring into his eyes and memorizing every detail of this moment. “How stupid have we been, these last months? With all this between us and both of us too dumb or stubborn or scared to say anything?”

“Hella?”

“Shut up,” Chris said and they kissed again, this one long, and lingering, sweetness mixed with just enough heat until Zach pushed against Chris’s chest. “What?” Chris asked. “Something wrong?”

“No, it’s just… I haven’t told you yet.” Chris looked at him inquiringly. “I love you, Chris.”

Chris smiled and tilted his face forward so their foreheads touched. “So what do you say, you want to go try to get married for real?”

“If it gets us to the wedding night any faster, I’ll do anything you say.”

\----

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today – AGAIN – to finally get this show on the road!” Audrey said some twenty minutes later when the ceremony had re-convened. 

Chris and Zach stood once more on the dais, hands clasped and unable to take their eyes off each other. After their make-out session, they looked decidedly less put-together, but Chris sure didn’t mind and neither, apparently, did Zach.

“Rings?” Audrey prompted.

Chris took the ring he’d dropped in his pocket earlier and positioned it near Zach’s left hand. 

“Christopher, repeat after me,” Audrey went on. “Zachary, I take you to be my lawfully wedded husband. Before these witnesses I vow to care for you as long as we both shall live.” Chis repeated the line without hesitation and Audrey went on, “I take you with all your faults and your strengths as I offer myself to you with my faults and strengths.”

Chris smiled. “I take you with all your faults and your strengths as I offer myself to you with my _considerable_ faults.”

“And considerable strengths!” Zach said and everyone in the room laughed.

Audrey beamed. “I will help you when you need help, and I will turn to you when I need help. I choose you as the person with whom I will spend my life.”

“I will help you when you need help, and I will turn to you when I need help - I SWEAR!” Again, there was laughter. “Zach, I choose you as the one and only person with whom I will spend my life.”

“With this ring, I thee wed,” Audrey finished.

Chris pushed the ring onto Zach’s finger and then clutched at his hand. “With this ring, I thee wed,” he said, choking on the last words as tears burned his eyes and made him blink. Somewhere behind them, someone sobbed, and Chris was pretty sure it was his mother.

Zach looked deeply into Chris’s eyes as he repeated his own vows, his voice low and full of emotion, a smile on his face as he finished, “With this ring, I thee wed.” 

“By the power vested in me by the great state of California – oh criminy, they’re at it again!” Audrey said as Chris and Zach pulled each other close and kissed once more, this time to a rousing round of applause.

\----

“ _If you liked it then you shoulda put a ring on it_  
Don't be mad once you see that he want it  
If you liked it then you shoulda put a ring on it!”

“I thought I just did?” Zach said, laughing hysterically as Chris did a little dance on the elevator.

“Wuh uh oh uh uh oh oh uh oh uh uh oh,” Chris continued, strutting as much as the limited space in the elevator allowed.

“Anyway, you’re supposed to be showing the other hand, the one with the, you know, _ring on it_?”

“Am I? I never noticed.” 

“You never noticed?” Zach asked, stepping into Chris’s personal space and crowding him against the paneled wall. “Are you not thoroughly familiar with the entire oeuvre of Queen Bey?” he draped a suggestive hand over Chris’s shoulder.

“Guess I’m not.”

“We shall have to remedy that.” Zach leaned in, his mouth millimeters from Chris’s.

Chris licked his lips. “Oh yeah? How?”

“ _Got me looking so crazy right now, your love's got me looking so crazy right now!_ ” Zach sang, dancing away from Chris as the elevator doors opened. “Uh oh, uh oh, uh oh, oh no no.” he added in a lower voice, not wanting to rouse everyone on this floor. 

The reception had gone until 11:00, but the party had moved to the bar, which they had all closed down – though as far as Chris knew, his dad was down there still, holding court and doling out Cubans to his closest friends and new relations. 

Laughing hysterically, they made their way to their suite. Chris found the keycard in his pocket and leaned against the door’s jamb with his shoulder. When he glanced at Zach, he caught him staring at the ring on his left hand, playing with it with his thumb. “Weird, huh?” he asked softly.

“I think I’ll get used to it.”

Chris smiled as the door’s lock clicked and he pushed into the room.

At some point during the reception someone – probably their siblings – had gone to town on the place, and red rose petals were strewn literally everywhere, along with the liberal application of heart-shaped balloons. The effect was utterly cheesy, except for the fact there was champagne chilling on ice in a bucket on the coffee table, along with a generous spread of late night snacks – finger sandwiches and tiny, decadent mini-desserts on silver trays. Chris made a beeline for them.

“God, I’m starved,” he muttered around what turned out to be a smoked turkey and cream cheese thing. “I don’t think I ate all night.

“Oh no, we know what happens when the Pine has low blood sugar,” Zach said only half-mockingly, lifting the champagne out of its bucket and letting the water drip off. He made a production out of opening it, removing the foil and cage around the cork with a flourish of an elbow and then taking a napkin to wrap around the neck of the bottle. 

“Putting those hard-won waiterly skills to good use, I see,” Chris teased, picking up the two champagne flutes that had been provided. He noticed with surprise that they’d been etched with their initials and a pair of entwined wedding bands – super cheesy and somehow very touching at the same time.

“Some things you never forget,” Zach said, twisting the cork out with a pop and raising an eyebrow in triumph when no champagne bubbled out. He poured champagne into the glasses Chris held. “Like the look in your eyes when I slid that ring on your finger.”

Chris looked up in time to accept a kiss, warm and soft and filled with promise. “You say that to all the boys?” he asked in a husky voice when they parted.

“Only the one I intend to spend the rest of my life with.”

“Smooth. Very smooth. But this boy’s in need of a snack.” Chris handed Zach one of the flutes and grabbed another sandwich – chicken salad and pea shoots if he wasn’t mistaken – then took off his jacket and sat down wearily on the couch. 

Zach sat in the adjacent arm chair and drained his champagne glass, then poured them both another. “It was a nice party though, huh?”

“Well, sure, once we got that whole ‘oops I forgot to tell you I’m in love with you’ thing out of the way.”

“What _were_ we thinking?” Zach idly filled a plate with more sandwiches and handed it to Chris.

“Guess we weren't,” Chris answered, taking them from him. 

“All that time we wasted.”

“I wouldn’t say wasted. I noticed you bypassed the smoked salmon sandwiches.”

“You don’t like smoked salmon.”

“Exactly.”

Zach smiled and picked up a chocolate-covered strawberry. “I guess we did get to know each other better these last few months.” He took a bite, leaning forward as juice ran down his chin.

“Still some things I don’t know.”

“Like what?” Zach dabbed at his mouth with a cocktail napkin.

“Like what you taste like with chocolate on your breath.” Chris leaned forward and rested a hand on Zach’s knee, waiting for Zach to lean in as well. They kissed again. “Delicious,” he purred against Zach’s lips.

“Jesus, that line was so corny, Pine,” Zach whispered back.

“Is it working?” 

Zach kissed him again. “What do you think?”

“I think we can move this little picnic to the bedroom,” Chris said, kissing him back.

Zach grabbed the champagne and glasses and Chris the desserts and they made their way to the bedroom. Chris deposited the tray on the nightstand. “Ooo wait – I just want to get out of this suit.” He walked over to the closet to remove his pants, hanging them up carefully and then starting on the shirt.

Zach watched, amused. 

“What?” Chris asked, noticing.

“Nothing – I didn’t take you for such a neat freak.”

“When you’re wearing a $20,000 suit, you take care of it,” Chris said. 

“Jesus, you think that’s how much these are worth?”

Chris shrugged. “At least.”

“Then I’m glad I didn’t puke on myself during the ceremony.”

Chris smiled and went to stow his cuff links and pinky ring in a small box in his dopp kit. He looked at the wedding ring he now wore, extremely conscious of its weight on his finger, and wondered if he should take it off at night. He decided to wait and see how it would go if he left it on. When he turned around, he saw Zach standing there in his underwear and was suddenly acutely aware of his own lack of clothes. His mouth was suddenly dry, the passion of their kissing earlier now replaced by awkwardness.

“Wow, um…”

“More champagne?” Zach offered lamely, clearly feeling the same thing. He handed Chris his glass then went to sit on the bed. Chris sat beside him – the dessert tray between them – and wracked his brain for something to talk about. “So who was that lady in the floral print dress? The one dancing with the broom?”

Zach snorted a laugh. “That was Aunt Cookie – she used to be married to Uncle Tommy, but they got divorced and now he’s married to Aunt Donna.”

“The redhead?”

“Right. She used to be married to Uncle Tommy’s brother, Uncle Sal.”

“ _Quel scandale!_ ”

“You don’t know the half of it. Cookie and Donna used to be best friends, and since Cookie is Cousin Tim’s mom, she comes to all the family ‘dos. Such drama. You have a lot of that in the Pine family?”

Chris picked up a lemon tartlet and toyed with it. “Let’s see… Probably the biggest scandal growing up was whose kids shoplifted at the Ralph’s – because _obviously_ it was the parents’ fault. Either that, or the adults were really good at keeping it all from us. I was a pretty clueless kid most of the time, though. Just kind of caught up in my own,” he gestured vaguely, “imagination or whatever.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah – I wasn’t an English major for nothing. I read voraciously from the moment I learned. I saved the world so many times, you don’t even know.”

“My own little Walter Mitty,” Zach said fondly. “Hey, this blood orange mousse thing is pretty good.” 

“Oh yeah?”

“Mm-hmm.” Zach picked up a tiny mousse-filled chocolate shell and held it close to Chris’s lips. Chris opened his mouth to take a bite but Zach apparently thought to place the entire thing inside. The result was a mouthful of mousse and half of Zach’s index finger. Zach pulled back but Chris slid his hand around his wrist and kept him there, sucking on his finger for a moment. He let it go, then glanced up at Zach, who regarded him with an intent expression. 

“Sorry, was that totally gross?” Chris asked, chewing.

“Was watching those lips engulf my fingertip gross? No. No, that was perhaps the least gross thing I can think of at the moment.”

Chris swallowed and smiled as Zach leaned forward for a kiss. His lips were soft and dry, and Chris opened his mouth to deepen the kiss immediately, letting the hand that held Zach’s fall away. Zach rested his fingertips on Chris’s jaw, subtly shifting his head to the side for a different angle, and leaning in to get closer.

After a few minutes, Chris pulled away to catch his breath, planting soft kisses along Zach’s chin and jaw. Opening his eyes, he spotted the tray of desserts between them, as well as the tartlet he still held. “I should move these,” he said.

Zach caught his chin with his fingers and angled his face back to be kissed again. “Just shove it on the floor, come on,” he said breathlessly.

“Ew, no. Besides, I might want them later.”

“The famous Pine metabolism strikes again,” Zach said with a smile.

“You’ll thank me. Hang on.”

Chris picked up the tray and set it on the nightstand, depositing his champagne flute beside it. When he turned back around, Zach slid a warm hand around his waist. “Oh,” Chris said, flinching away a little and then cursing. 

“Ticklish?” Zach asked, amused.

“Only if it’s incredibly sexy.”

“It is,” Zach murmured, taking Chris’s mouth in another long, slow kiss. Chris brought his hand up to rest at the back of Zach’s head, his fingers playing with the short hairs on the back of his neck. Zach hummed and intensified the kiss, pulling Chris closer to him with a hand on his thigh. Wanting to be closer, Chris twisted around so that he was straddling Zach’s lap. Zach smiled and leaned back, pushing himself further back on the bed. He spread his legs wide and Chris settled between them comfortably, Zach giving a small moan as they kissed again. 

Zach’s hands moved over Chris’s torso, smoothing over the thin cotton of his undershirt then venturing underneath. Once more Chris flinched, though not as badly as before, and once more Zach made an amused sound as he pulled the shirt over Chris’s head and flung it away somewhere. Chris responded with a low moan and ground his pelvis against Zach’s hardening dick. Zach groaned, deep in his chest, and Chris pushed away, hovering over Zach on his hands. Zach looked back with eyes lust-drunk and impossibly dark, framed by lashes so long they cast shadows across his cheeks from the low light of the bedside lamps. “God, you’re beautiful,” he said, caressing Zach’s face with the backs of the fingers of one hand.

Zach opened his mouth as if to say something, but then smiled and looked away instead. “Thank you,” he said simply.

“What? What were you going to say?”

Zach shook his head and answered, “Nothing. I don’t know how to take compliments. It’s something I’m trying to fix.”

“Ah, then I’ll just keep complimenting you. You looked so good on that altar today I wanted to eat you alive.”

“That’s your idea of a compliment?”

“That’s my idea of a segue into a blowjob.”

“It’s a pretty clumsy one, but who am I to turn down a blowjob?” 

Chris smiled and got up again, helping Zach off with his undershirt and then positioning himself beside him, propped up on an elbow. He palmed Zach’s massive erection through his briefs and then slid his fingers under the waistband, pulling it down slowly. “It’s like unwrapping my Christmas presents early.”

“Any more corny lines from you, Chris, and I’ll – oh!” 

Zach’s comment was cut off by Chris taking his cock in hand and pressing his lips to the head, kissing and sucking at it enthusiastically.

“Oh my God,” Zach breathed, dropping his head back to the bed and biting the words off as if they’d been dragged from him.

“You like that?” Chris asked pulling off and blowing cool bursts of air on the moistened flesh.

Zach shivered. “What do you think?” 

Chris smiled with satisfaction – he may have been out of practice with men, but he knew what he liked himself and figured he’d just go for it. He kept his hand around the base and jacked Zach slowly as he began to go down on him, varying the angle he took and the depth to keep things interesting. Eventually, he pulled off and just looked up at Zach, who’d raised himself up on his elbows to watch with interest. 

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do exactly this?” Chris asked, then slowly licked a line up the underside.

“Tell me.”

“Too long.” Chris guided Zach’s dick back into his mouth, wrapping his lips around the head, enjoying the feel and taste of it in his mouth. “Mmm,” he hummed, looking up at Zach as he began to move his head up and down again, more slowly than before.

“Holy fucking Christ.”

Chris pulled off with an audible pop. “You’re very articulate when you want to be.”

“Please stop talking.”

Chris laughed and went back to work, his head bobbing up and down on Zach’s cock, taking as much of it as he could accommodate without gagging. He glanced up at Zach, whose eyes were fixated on what Chris was doing; they flicked over to meet Chris’s, almost helpless with desire. Chris had not wanted to, but he couldn’t resist reaching down to touch himself, moaning as he palmed himself through his underwear. 

“You keep doing that and I’m gonna shoot right now,” Zach gasped, scrabbling at Chris’s shoulder ineffectually.

“Good point.” Chris pulled off reluctantly and hovered over Zach once more, kissing him. Zach spread his legs and lifted them, hooking his feet around Chris and pulling him closer; with his arms around his shoulders, Chris felt like he’d been captured somehow. He didn’t mind much. 

“I want you to fuck me. Please,” Zach said between kisses.

“Really?”

“That’s surprising?”

“I dunno – umm…” Chris loved bottoming and, well, given Zach’s personality, he’d just assumed – 

“Don’t look so disappointed.” Zach released his hold on Chris and looked up at him, his eyes hurt. Chris rolled off him to lay by his side, propped up on an elbow.

“I’m not, I’m just… you’re so bossy all the time. No, I don’t mean bossy! Not bossy at all – like… _forceful_! Yeah, that’s the word. And so I kinda assumed, you know…” He stopped talking when he saw Zach’s face: equal parts serious and suspicious, and he wasn’t sure if he’d just fucked something up. “I’m sorry.”

“If you don’t want to, we can just… do other stuff.”

“OK.”

“Don’t look so sad – oh my God, I was kidding! Did your future sex life just pass before your eyes? I’m sorry – I like both. Oh God, I know when not to tease you now, come here.” Zach took Chris’s face between his hands and kissed him. 

“You’re an asshole, you know that?” Chris said with a pout a moment later. “I really thought I fucked up. I’ve only had sex with one other guy – I don’t know what the politics of these situations are supposed to be.” 

“I’m sorry – I’ll never do it again.” When Chris didn’t react, Zach pushed his hair back with a light touch. “In all seriousness, I like both, but I would only bottom with guys I feel really close to, and it’s been such a long time since I’ve felt that way, so I want you. Right now.”

Chris nodded and looked back up at him. “You have any supplies? I didn’t pack any.”

“What?”

“I didn’t think this would actually happen. I thought you’d ask to divorce me before the weekend was over.”

“We clearly need to have many more long talks,” Zach said. He sat up. “But later.” He walked to the bathroom and when he returned he had condoms and a tube of lube. “I think I’ve waited long enough for this.” He put a knee on the bed and moved to straddle Chris, who lay on his back. “And so have you.”

The sight of Zach prepping himself was rivaled only by the experience of him lowering himself onto Chris’s cock. His body was hot and tight and it seemed to take an extraordinarily long time. But then Chris was bottoming out, Zach leaning over him, arms trembling and panting as he waited for his body to adjust, and Chris wished he’d paid more attention. 

“You OK?” Chris asked, because the look on Zach’s face wasn’t exactly one of pleasure.

Zach rested his hands on Chris’s chest and smiled wanly. “I will be. You’re just so… so big. I guess my eyes were bigger than my –“ he stopped talking, knowing that was the wrong metaphor. “God,” he said, lowering his head. 

“Take deep breaths,” Chris said, sweat beginning to bead on his forehead and chest. The urge to thrust up into Zach was strong, but he breathed deep himself, willing Zach to mirror him. He did, and the two of them resembled a pair of expectant moms in a Lamaze class more than two people on their wedding night. 

Chris rested his hands on Zach’s hips; Zach opened his eyes and smiled again, this time it was more genuine. “This is doing wonders for my ego, you know,” Chris said.

Zach laughed. “Yeah, well, credit where it’s due or something.”

“God, you’re so hot like this.”

“Sweaty and trembling like a malaria patient?”

“Tropical diseases are my number one turn-on.”

“I think I can move now.”

Chris moved his hands up to Zach’s ribs. “You sure?” Zach nodded and, resting his hands on Chris’s shoulders, he began to move up and down. His movements – as well as his moans – were shallow at first, the look of concentration on his face complete as he strained to accommodate Chris. Eventually, his movements got bigger, his thigh muscles straining as he sank himself down on Chris’s dick again and again. “Oh my God,” he gasped as Chris began to meet him on the downstroke, thrusting up into Zach’s body. Zach leaned forward then, head lowered, hands resting on Chris’s chest as he let Chris take over.

“Oh God, yeah,” Chris said, raising his knees for leverage as he fucked up into Zach, who shuddered on each thrust and bit his bottom lip to keep from crying out. 

“Touch yourself,” Chris said, and Zach complied without a word, stroking his own cock as Chris pumped up into him. “God, you look so good like this,” Chris panted, and Zach opened his eyes, smiling at him happily.

“I love you so much,” Zach said, the look in his eyes going straight to Chris’s balls, and he could feel them tightening.

“Say that again.”

“I love you.”

With a near-growl, Chris sat up and, without pulling out, flipped Zach over onto his back in a move his high school wrestling coach would no doubt have been proud of. 

Zach uttered a surprised, “Oh my fuck!” but quickly adjusted to the change in position, drawing his knees up. Chris fit his forearms under them and rested his hands on the bed, bending Zach in half as he leaned forward to kiss him, thrust into him again and again.

“Say it,” Chris begged breathlessly.

“I love you,” Zach repeated.

“God, again. Please.”

“I love you. I love you. I love –“

With a moan that was half-sob, Chris covered Zach’s mouth with his once more as he came, his thrusts slowing to a near stop. Something warm and wet hit him in the throat and he looked down to see that Zach had come as well, thick ropes of it spattering their chests and bellies. 

A moment later, Chris eased himself off of Zach, letting his legs relax and straighten, and then pulling his softening dick out of him. He pulled off the condom and tied it off, then left the bed for the bathroom to wash up. He returned a minute later with a warm washcloth to clean Zach off, kissing him as he did. 

Chris tossed the washcloth away and pulled the covers down. Getting into the bed, he pulled Zach on top of him, and leaned back against the mountain of pillows the hotel had seen fit to provide. 

“Man, I’m gonna feel that tomorrow,” Zach said with a chuckle, sliding his arms around Chris as he rested his head on his chest.

“I think we both will,” Chris said, burying his face in the top of Zach’s head and breathing in his scent with a sigh of contentment. This was what he was after – this was home to him now – and he couldn’t have been happier.

**EPILOGUE**

Katie sat in her chair at the post-wedding brunch for her baby brother, fighting off the urge to simultaneously vomit and pass out into her custom-made omelet. Her husband – a good man, stalwart and true – had kindly taken their daughter off to visit the duck pond on the hotel’s property, allowing her a few moments of peace to nurse the vicious hangover she was suffering through. The after-after party had lasted until 5:00 am, and she’d barely gotten to bed before she was forced to get up or risk missing sending Chris and Zach off on their honeymoon or whatever the plan was. Truthfully, she hadn’t paid attention to any of the arrangements that were being made; not because she didn't care, but because she wasn’t exactly convinced any of it would matter in the long run.

It wasn’t that she didn't like Zach (she did), or that she didn't think he didn't love her brother (he was clearly smitten). But throughout his life, Chris had displayed an utter inability to commit to anyone for any amount of time, bailing on the relationships in the most passive-aggressive ways imaginable, usually forcing his girlfriends to dump him first. She knew this was because he was afraid of getting hurt – that asshole he’d dated his Freshman year had really done a number on him – and since they were close, they’d talked about it over the years. On those rare occasions when she’d actually been able to get him to open up about these things (ironically, whenever he’d been dumped), he even acknowledged it. But knowing about something you needed to change and acting were two entirely different things, and for a man as decisive in his life as her brother, he was amazingly dense on this one point. Why he entered into relationships at all, Katie wasn’t sure, except that he always seemed happy when he was in the midst of them.

And he did not seem all that happy living with Zach.

So it was without much enthusiasm that she’d assisted (barely) in the planning of the wedding, mostly taking a back seat to the moms, who’d clearly wanted this more than their sons. This was the thought in her mind as they joined her at her table, standing beside each other jostling elbows and shoulders like a pair of 12-year old BFFs in the school lunchroom.

“You two are looking pleased with yourselves,” Katie said. “You’ve each gotten both your children married off – you can pat yourselves on the backs, secure in the knowledge of a job well-done.”

Margo laughed heartily, and Gwynne gave her a knowing look that Katie usually found infuriating, but which now piqued her curiosity. “What?” Katie asked.

“My dear, you don’t know the half of it,” Margo said, and actually giggled (which, on a woman as shrewd and no-nonsense as Margo was kind of terrifying). 

“You don’t say?” Katie said in as neutral a tone as she could manage. Clearly, something was up, and they both wanted to get something off their chests; if she played her cards right, one or both of them would spill. 

Gwynne pressed her lips together in a show of keeping her mouth shut, and it was then that Katie noticed they were both clutching very large, very empty Bloody Marys in their hands. This was going to be easier than she thought.

“What, is one of them pregnant? Did they _have to get married_?”

“Don’t be silly, Katherine,” Gwynne admonished, “we mean that the boys’ sham marriage wouldn’t have been changed into a love match if we hadn’t…” she rolled her hand around on her wrist, searching for the right word.

“Intervened,” Margo finished for her.

“Yes. That.” They mugged some more at each other, which was only slightly infuriating.

“You can’t just drop a bomb like that and leave it there, ladies,” Katie said, leaning forward in her chair and pushing her rapidly congealing omelet aside. “Spill.”

“Well, if you insist.” Margo pulled out the chair next to Katie and took a seat. “You know as well as we do that the boys got married in Vegas as some sort of joke or something.”

The thought had occurred to Katie, but she’d dismissed it, judging her brother to be smarter than that. Clearly she’d been wrong. “What makes you say that?”

“Do you think your brother would be close enough to anyone to even consider the idea of marrying them without us knowing a thing about it?”

It was a fair point – the Pines were a closely knit family, and something as major as a new boyfriend would have at least been hinted at over a Sunday Dinner at some point.

“But at the same time, poor Zachary has been in love with Christopher almost since the day he met him – not that he’d have admitted it to _anyone_ ,” Gwynne added.

“That boy – as stubborn as his father ever was and twice as snarky when you ask him anything,” Margo added. “But a mother knows.”

“A mother knows,” Gwynne echoed. “Because even if he’d done a foolish thing, I could tell Christopher had found the right person for him.”

“How? How did you know?” Katie challenged, because she hadn’t seen it, at least not enough of it to be convincing.

“Oh please, dear, have you never watched them in interviews? The way they look at and touch each other?”

“What? No. Ew.” 

“I wasn’t convinced either, Katherine,” Margo said, patting her on the hand. “But when I came to LA to visit and I saw them together, I knew.”

“Because a mother knows?” Katie asked.

“Exactly. And I knew it would be up to me…” she put an arm around Gwynne’s shoulders, “no, up to _us_ to make sure they saw what a good thing they had in each other. That’s when I decided to stay with Zachary during my first visit. I could have stayed at Joseph’s house by myself – it’s not like I hadn’t done it before!”

“So, what, you thought if they were forced to sleep together they’d… want to _sleep together_?”

“Exactly.”

“But they were too stupid to see they both obviously wanted each other!”

“Gwynne!” Margo said, covering her mouth with her hand, though she was laughing.

“What, it’s true! When it was clear that those two dunderheads had no clue about each other, we started making them do things for the wedding, like help choose colors or menus.”

“And the wedding bands,” Margo prompted.

“Oh, God, the wedding bands!” Gwynne said.

“What about the wedding bands?”

“Well, you know how your father’s and my bands have those verses from the Frost poem inscribed on them?”

“Yeah, it’s the corniest thing ever.”

Gwynne gave Katie a stern look and went on, “I made sure to point it out to Christopher. I knew he wouldn’t be able to resist a literary reference. Only something went wrong I don’t know what, and if anything, they were farther apart than ever after that. Then Margo called in the big guns.”

Katie gave them both a confused look.

“I insisted Joseph do their wedding portraits. And he was under strict orders to make them kiss!”

“You devious old broads,” Katie marveled. 

“Don’t I know it, dear,” Margo said, her eyes twinkling. “Though it didn't work – still. I was about to lock them in a room together and throw away the key, let me tell you!”

“The vows were our last hope,” Gwynne said.

“Really? Why?”

Gwynne’s eyes went soft and sentimental. “Your brother is many things, chief among them honest and truthful. I knew he couldn’t say words like that if he didn't mean them.”

“That’s why he freaked out at the rehearsal, isn’t it?” Katie said, Chris’s behavior that night – and his utter misery when he’d come to her room – finally clicked into place. She grinned, suddenly relieved and happy for Chris. “That was an awfully big risk you were both taking. What if it didn't work?”

Both women shrugged. “But it did,” Margo pointed out.

“But what if it didn't?”

Gwynne pointed behind Katie and she turned around. There stood Chris and Zach, who had obviously just arrived. They stood close to each other, hands entwined, moving among the guests, and chatting. Their faces were alight with happiness, and whenever they looked at each other, they glowed. Katie had seen that look before – in her parent’s eyes when they looked at each other, and in her husband’s when he looked at her, and she was thrilled to see it on her brother and his new husband.

“It did,” she said, grinning wildly. 

\----

Thank you for your time.

**Author's Note:**

> This work is dedicated to the patrons of The Pinto Bar! With Liberty and Bloop for All! Or something.


End file.
